m 


m 


©IF  TM 

IVIL 


313 


i 


LIBRARY  OF    THE   COMMANDERY   OF 
THE  STATE  OF  MASSACHUSETTS  MILITARY 
ORDER  OFTHE  LOYAL  LEGION  OF  THE 
UNITED  STATES 

CADET   ARMORY,    BOSTON 


i  iwivFRSITY  OF  N.C  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 

■■nil! 

00022229241 


£\tfB  .CLARKE  col 

'BOO^SELLERSfcSTATIQNERS: 

!    26  &  E8T»EM0NTST.& 
j      30  COURT  SQ..B0ST0N 


^  o 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/strangestoriesofshac 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  SERIES 


EACH,    SIXTY    CENTS 


FRANCONIA   STORIES 
By  Jacob  Abbott 
Malleville  Stuyvesant 

Mary  Bell  Agnes 

Ellen  Linn  Mary  Erskine 

Wallace  Rodolphus 

Beechnut  Caroline 

By  W.  L.  Alden 
The  Moral  Pirates 
The  Cruise  of  the  "Ghost" 
The  Cruise  of  the  Canoe  Club 
The  Adventures  of  Jimmy  Brown 
Jimmy  Brown  Trying  to  Find  Europe 
A  New  Robinson  Crusoe 

By  James   Barnes 
The  Blockaders 

By  William   Black 
The  Four  Macnicols 

By  Lewis  Carroll 
Alice's  Adven  tures  in  Wonderland 
Through  the    Looking-Glass 
The  Hunting  of  the  Snark 

By  Col.    W.  F.  Cody 
The  Adventures  of  Buffalo  Bill 

By  George   C.  Eggleston 
Strange  Stories   from  History 

By  John  Habberton 
Who  Was  Paul  Grayson? 

By  Mrs.  W.  J.  Hays 
Prince  Lazybones 
The  Princess  I  die  ways 

By  George  A.  Henty 
In  the  Hands  of  the  Cave-Dwellers 

By  W.  J.  Henderson 
Sea  Yarns  for  Boys 

By  Ernest  Ingersoll 
The  Ice  Queen 

By  David  Ker 
The  Lost  City 
Into  Unknown  Seas 

By  Lucy  C.  Lillie 
Mildred's  Bargain 
Nan 

Jo's  Opoortunitv 
Phil  and  the  Baby 
False  Witness 
Rolf  House 


By  Livingston  B.  Morsb 
The  Road  to  Nowhere 

By  Miss  Mulock 
The  Little  Lame  Prince 
The  Adventures  of  a  Brownie 
Little  Sunshine's  Holiday 
The  Cousin  from  India 
Twenty  Years  Ago 
Is  It  True? 
Miss  Moore 
An  Only  Sister 

By  Kirk  Munrob 
Wakulla 

The  Flamingo  Feather 
Derrick  Sterling 
Chrystal,  Jack  &  Co.,  etc. 

By  James  Otis 
Mr.  Stubbs's  Brother 
Tim  and  Tip 
Toby  Tyler,    or,  Ten  Weeks  with  a 

Circus 
Raising  the  "Pearl" 
Silent  Pete;  or,  the  Stowaways 
Left  Behind ;  or,  Ten  Days  a  Newsboy 

By  G.  B.  Perry 
Uncle  Peter's  Trust 

By  L.   C.  Pyrnellb 
Diddie,  Dumps,  and  Tot 

By  Margaret  E.  Sangster 
Little  Knights  and  Ladies — Poems 

By  W.  O.  Stoddard 
Two  Arrows 
The  Fed  Mustang 
The  Talking  Leaves 

By  Sophie  Swett 
Captain    Polly 

STRANGE  STORIES  FROM 
AMERICAN    HISTORY 
Strange  Stories  of  Colonial  Days 
Strange  Stories  of  the  Revolution 
Strange  Stories  of  1812 
Strange  Stories  of  the  Civil  War 

ADVENTURE    SERIES 
Adventures  of  Uncle  Sam's  Sailors 
Adventures  of  Uncle  Sam's  Soldiers 
Adventures  with  Indians 
Adventures  of  Pirates  and  Sea-Rovers 


Music  and  Musicians 
The  Colonel's  Money 
The  Household  of  Glen  Holly 

Illustrated.    Price,  per  -volume,  60  cents 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS,  NEW  YORK 


[See  page  168 


TO    THE    FRONT    FROM    WINCHESTER 


STRANGE    STORIES 

OF  THE 

CIVIL    WAR 


BY 

ROBERT    SHACKLETON,    JOHN    HABBERTON 

WILLIAM  J.  HENDERSON,  L.  E.  CHITTENDEN 

CAPT.  HOWARD   PATTERSON,  U.S.N. 

GEN.  G.  A.   FORSYTH,  U.S.A. 

AND  OTHERS 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
HARPER    &-   BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1907,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 

Published  May,  1907. 

PRINTED     IN    THE     UNITED    STATES    OF    AMERICA 
D-O 


CONTENTS 

i 

A  BOY'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 
By  William  J.  Henderson 

II 

THE    CAPTAIN   OF   COMPANY   Q 

The  Tale  of  an  Unenlisted  Soldier 

By  Robert  Shackleton 

III 

MIDSHIPMAN  JACK,  U.S.N. 

The    Action    of  Appalachicola 

By  William  Drysdale 

IV 

CAPTAIN  BILLY 

Aid  und  Comfort  to  the  Enemy 

By  Lucy  Lillie 

V 

THE  BLOCKADE-RUNNER 
A  Dangerous  Prize 

VI 

TWO  DAYS  WITH  MOSBY 

An    Adventure   with    Guerillas 


CONTENTS 

VII 

THE  FIRST  TIME  UNDER  FIRE 
The    Experience    of   a    Raw   Recruit 

VIII 
HOW     CUSHING    DESTROYED     THE     "ALBE- 
MARLE" 
One  of  the  Bravest  Deeds  in  Naval  History 
Captain  Howard  Patterson,  U.  S.  N. 

IX 

PRESIDENT    LINCOLN    AND    THE    SLEEPING 

SENTINEL 

By  L.  E.  Chittenden 

X 

THE     BATTLE     BETWEEN     THE     "MONITOR" 

AND  "MERRIMAC" 
Told  by   Captain    Worden   and  Lieutenant  Greene 
of  the  "Monitor" 
By  L.  E.  Chittenden 

XI 

SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

Told  by  his  Aide 

By  General  G.  A.  Forsyth,  U.  S.  N.  (Retired) 

XII 

LEE'S  SURRENDER  AT  APPOMATTOX 

Told  by  One   Who  was  Present 

By  General  G.  A.  Forsyth,  U.  S.  N.  (Retired) 

vi 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

TO   THE    FRONT    FROM    WINCHESTER       .       .      .        Frontispiece 
THEN     ZEBEDEE     DASHED     OUT     ACROSS     THE 

PLAIN Facing  p.    20 

*' COULD  THEY  COME  TO  ATTACK  US  WHEN 
THEY  KNOW  WHAT  TROUBLE  WE  ARE 
IN?" "  40 

mean  as  were  the  surroundings  it  made 

a  tragic  scene "        56 

chasing  a  blockade-runner       ....        "       62 
the  battle  between  the  "  monitor  i'  and 

"  merrimac  " "      158 

"sheridan!  sheridan!" "      178 

departure    of    general   lee   after   the 

surrender       ....,=     ....        "      216 


INTRODUCTION 

gO  the  younger  readers  of  the 
twentieth  century  the  great  war 
of  1861-65,  fought  to  maintain  the 
authority  of  the  national  govern- 
ment and  to  preserve  the  union  of  the  States, 
may  sometimes  seem  remote  and  imper- 
sonal. The  passage  of  time  has  healed  the 
bitterness  and  animosity  which  an  older  gen- 
eration can  remember,  and  if  proof  were 
needed  of  the  real  union  of  our  country  it  was 
shown  when  South  and  North  marched  side 
by  side  under  the  old  flag  in  the  war  with 
Spain.  It  is  well  that  the  passions  of  war 
should  be  laid  aside,  but  the  examples  of 
heroism  on  both  sides  and  the  lessons  of 
patriotism  are  something  always  to  be  kept 
in  mind.  Grant  and  Lee,  Sherman,  Sheridan, 
"Stonewall"  Jackson — figures  like  these  are 
ix 


INTRODUCTION 

not  to  be  forgotten — and  personal  views  of 
some  of  these  leaders  will  be  found  in  this 
book. 

Of  the  great  campaigns  of  those  terrible 
four  years,  when  vast  armies  marched  and 
countermarched  and  wrestled  in  battles  of 
giants,  there  are  many  accounts,  and  yet  the 
necessarily  limited  space  allotted  in  short 
histories  may  well  be  supplemented  by  narra- 
tives alive  with  human  interest.  That  is  the 
purpose  of  this  book.  Mr.  Henderson's  rec- 
ollections, which  serve  as  a  prologue,  will  take 
the  boy  of  to-day  back  to  these  eventful 
years  and  make  him  realize  what  it  was  to 
live  in  the  days  when  North  and  South  were 
summoning  their  sons  to  arms.  Mr.  Shackle- 
ton's  dramatic  story  is  the  first  of  some  im- 
aginative tales  of  the  war  which  aim  to  pre- 
serve the  atmosphere  of  those  thrilling  days 
in  the  guise  of  fiction.  The  stories  which 
follow— "The  Blockade  Runner"  and  "Two 
Days  with  Mosby,"  are  believed  to  be  essen- 
tially relations  of  actual  experiences ;  and  the 
balance  of  the  book,  including  the  tales  of 
Lincoln,  Worden  and  the  Monitor,  Sheridan's 


INTRODUCTION 

Ride,  and  Lee's  surrender,  is  vivid,  first-hand 
history.  One  feature  of  this  book  is  that 
the  latter  stories  are  told  by  those  who  took 
an  actual  part.  This  is  a  book  of  adventure 
and  of  heroic  deeds,  which  are  not  only  of  ab- 
sorbing interest,  but  they  also  bring  a  closer 
realization  of  the  one  country  which  was 
welded  together  in  the  furnace  of  the  Civil 
War. 

More  extended  versions  of  the  narratives 
by  L.  E.  Chittenden  and  General  G.  A. 
Forsyth  are  presented  in  the  former's  Recol- 
lections of  Lincoln  and  the  latter 's  Thrilling 
Days  of  Army  Life. 


STRANGE    STORIES 
OF    THE    CIVIL    WAR 


STRANGE    STORIES 
OF    THE    CIVIL    WAR 


A   boy's   IMPRESSIONS   OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

jVERY  time  I  see  the  citizen 
soldiers  of  the  National  Guard 
march  down  the  avenue  I  have  a 
S  choking  sensation  in  my  throat, 
and  sometimes  tears  come  to  my  eyes.  A 
young  man  who  stood  beside  me  one  day 
when  I  could  not  help  making  an  exhibition 
of  myself,  said,  "What's  the  matter  with 
you?"  And  my  answer  was,  "They  make 
me  think  of  the  men  I  saw  going  to  the  front 
in  war-times."  Then  the  young  man  laugh- 
ed, and  said,  "What  can  you  remember  of 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

the  war?"  He  was  about  twenty-three  or 
twenty-four  years  of  age,  and  the  Civil  War 
was  to  him  something  to  be  read  of  in  a  dusty 
book.  I  was  five  years  old  when  the  war 
began.  I  could  read  and  write,  and  was 
going  to  school.  Many  of  the  things  which 
I  saw  then  made  impressions  on  my  mind 
never  to  be  effaced  this  side  of  the  grave. 

I  was  living  in  the  city  of  Pittsburg,  at  the 
junction  of  the  Alleghany  and  Monongahela 
rivers,  whose  waters,  joined  in  the  Ohio, 
flowed  past  many  a  field  that  will  live  in 
history.  Pittsburg  was  not  in  the  midst  of 
the  war,  but  it  was  close  enough  to  some 
scenes  of  action,  especially  Gettysburg,  and 
important  enough  as  a  point  of  departure 
and  source  of  supplies  to  keep  it  filled  with 
soldiers,  and  warmly  in  touch  with  all  that 
was  going  on.  What  I  wish  to  tell  you  is 
something  about  the  way  it  all  appeared  to  a 
boy. 

My  first  recollection  is  of  my  father  read- 
ing from  a  newspaper  the  announcement 
that  Major  Anderson  and  his  garrison  at 
Fort  Sumter  had   been   fired  upon.    That 


A  BOY'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

was  in  April,  1861,  and  I  was  in  my  sixth 
year;  but  I  remember  that  I  was  greatly 
excited,  and  wondered  what  it  all  meant. 
It  must  have  been  later  than  that  when  my 
father  gave  me  an  explanation,  which  I  re- 
member to  this  day.  He  said:  "My  little 
boy,  there  is  war  between  the  people  of  the 
North  and  those  of  the  South.  The  people 
in  the  South  want  to  have  slaves,  and  the 
people  in  the  North  say  they  must  not  have 
them.  So  the  people  of  the  South  say  they 
will  not  belong  to  the  United  States  any 
more,  and  the  people  of  the  North  say  they 
must.  And  so  they  are  fighting,  and  the 
fighting  will  go  on  till  one  or  the  other  is 
beaten."1 

All  at  once  Pittsburg  became  alive  with 
military  preparations.  Drums  were  beating 
in  the  streets  all  day  and  far  into  the  night. 
Every  hour  a  detachment  of  soldiers  would 
march  along  Smithfield  Street,  and  as  I  lived 

1  This  explanation  is  interesting  because  it  represents 
a  view  more  prevalent  at  that  time  than  this.  But  the 
historians  of  to-day  would  not  give  the  conflict  over 
slavery  as  the  first  and  chief  cause  of  the  Civil  War. 

[Editor. 

3 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

just  above  the  corner  of  it  on  Second  Street, 
now  called  Second  Avenue,  I  would  run  to 
see  every  squad  go  by,  till  it  became  tiresome, 
and  nothing  short  of  a  regiment  could  in- 
terrupt my  play.  Those  must  have  been  the 
seventy-five  thousand  volunteers  called  for  by 
Abraham  Lincoln  to  serve  three  months  and 
crush  the  rebellion.  Some  of  those  men  came 
back  at  the  end  of  their  three  months,  but  of 
that  I  remember  little  or  nothing.  The  only 
thing  that  made  a  strong  impression  on  me 
in  the  early  days  of  the  war,  after  the  attack 
on  Sumter,  was  the  killing  of  Ellsworth.  I 
suppose  every  boy  knows  now  how  the  gallant 
young  Colonel  of  the  New  York  Fire  Zouaves 
took  down  the  Confederate  flag  that  was 
flying  over  an  inn  in  Alexandria,  and  was 
shot  dead  by  the  proprietor  of  the  house, 
who  was  immediately  killed  by  Private 
Brownell. 

That  incident  fired  the  hearts  of  all  the 
boys  in  Pittsburg.  We  could  not  understand 
much  of  what  we  heard  about  the  movements 
of  troops,  and  I  have  forgotten  everything 
which  may  have  reached  my  ears  at  the  time. 
4 


A  BOY'S   IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

But  we  could  understand  the  murder  of 
Ellsworth,  and  to  this  day  I  remember  how 
we  little  fellows  burned  with  indignation, 
and  how  we  all  wished  we  had  been  Brown- 
ell  to  shoot  down  the  innkeeper.  Somehow 
the  untimely  fate  of  the  brave  young  Zouave 
commander  appealed  to  us  very  forcibly,  and 
I  think  some  of  us  cried  about  it.  It  appeal- 
ed to  our  mothers  too,  and  suddenly  the  lit- 
tle boys  in  Pittsburg  began  to  blossom  out 
in  Zouave  suits.  My  mother  had  one  made 
for  me  —  a  light -blue  jacket  with  brass 
buttons,  a  red  cap,  and  red  trousers.  She 
bought  me  a  little  flag,  and  had  my  picture 
taken  in  my  uniform,  and  she  has  that 
picture  yet.  Next  she  got  me  a  little  tin 
sword;  and  then  two  older  boys  procured 
blue  army  overcoats  and  caps,  and  borrowed 
two  muskets  from  the  property-man  at  the 
theatre,  and  I  used  to  drill  those  boys,  and 
march  them  proudly  all  over  Pittsburg,  to 
the  intense  delight  of  the  grown-up  people, 
who  cheered  us  wherever  we  went. 

The   next  thing  which  remains   indelibly 
fixed  in  my  memory  is  the  surprise  and  terror 

a 


STRANGE  STORIES   OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

which  flashed  across  the  whole  North  when 
we  heard  the  news  from  Bull  Run.  Of 
course  I  do  not  remember  the  date  of  the  bat- 
tle, and  I  am  obliged  to  refer  to  my  history 
to  find  that  it  took  place  in  July,  1861.  But 
we  boys  in  Pittsburg  had  been  indulging  in 
much  loud  talk,  as  boys  will,  of  the  way  in 
which  our  soldiers  were  going  to  blow  out  the 
rebellion,  as  one  would  blow  out  a  candle; 
and  here  came  the  news  that  these  miserable 
rebels,  whom  we  despised,  had  thrashed  our 
glorious  army  terribly,  and  were  thinking 
about  walking  into  Washington.  My  im- 
pressions at  the  time  were  that  a  lot  of 
Southern  slave  -  drivers,  armed  with  snake 
whips  and  wearing  slouch -hats,  would  soon 
arrive  in  Pittsburg  and  make  us  all  stand 
around  and  obey  orders.  My  father  about 
this  time  used  to  pace  the  floor  in  deep 
thought  after  reading  the  newspaper,  and 
used  to  set  off  for  business  with  a  bowed  head. 
Later  in  life  I  learned  that  in  those  days  he 
drew  his  last  twenty-five  dollars  out  of  the 
bank,  and  did  not  know  where  more  was  to 
come  from.  But  I  thought  he  expected  to 
6 


A  BOY'S   IMPRESSIONS  OF   THE  CIVIL  WAR 

be  killed  or  made  a  slave.  The  boys  used  to 
discuss  what  steps  they  would  take  if  the 
rebels  came,  and  it  was  pretty  generally 
agreed  that  we  would  all  have  to  run  across 
the  Monongahela  River  bridge,  climb  Coal 
Hill,  and  hide  in  the  mines. 

From  the  time  of  Bull  Run  to  the  assas- 
sination of  Abraham  Lincoln  my  boyhood 
memories,  as  they  come  back  to  me  now, 
present  no  orderly  sequence  of  events.  In  a 
dim  way  I  remember  the  distress  and  con- 
sternation caused  by  the  dread  event  at 
Ball's  Bluff,  and  in  an  equally  uncertain 
way  I  remember  how  we  cheered  and  danced 
when  the  news  of  a  victory  arrived.  Just 
across  the  street  from  my  father's  house  stood 
the  Homoeopathic  Hospital,  and  next  to  it 
was  a  vacant  lot  in  which  pig-iron  was  stored. 
There  we  boys  were  wont  to  resort.  We  sat 
on  the  piles  of  pig  metal  and  gravely  dis- 
cussed the  progress  of  the  war,  and  I  well 
remember  that  one  of  my  earliest  combats 
arose  from  my  proclaiming  my  belief  that 
General  Burnside  was  a  greater  man  than 
George  B.  McClellan.  That  was  rank  trea- 
7 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

son;  but  I  think  Burnside's  whiskers  made  a 
conquest  of  me.  I  will  add  that  the  dispute 
ended  in  a  triumphant  victory  for  the  de- 
fender of  McClellan's  fame.  Thereupon  I 
went  home  to  my  mother  and  "told  on"  the 
defender.  I  got  little  consolation,  for  my 
mother  said:  "Don't  come  to  me.  If  a 
boy  hits  you,  you  must  hit  back;  but  don't 
come  in  crying  to  me."  We  were  a  warlike 
race  in  those  days. 

Gettysburg  is  a  word  that  conjures  up 
memories  for  me.  We  thought  we  had  seen 
soldiers  in  Pittsburg  before  that,  but  we  had 
simply  seen  samples.  When  the  Confeder- 
ates invaded  Pennsylvania,  we  found  our- 
selves in  a  most  unpleasant  place ;  but  we  had 
plenty  of  excitement.  From  early  dawn  till 
late  at  night  drums  were  beating  in  the  streets 
and  the  walls  of  the  houses  echoed  the  tread 
of  many  feet.  For  three  weeks  I  never  set 
my  foot  inside  the  Second  Ward  School  in 
Ross  Street,  where  I  was  supposed  to  be,  but 
every  morning  I  stole  quietly  across  the 
bridge  and  ascended  Coal  Hill.  Do  you 
know  what  was  going  on  up  there  ?  Soldiers 
8 


A  BOY'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

were  working  like  beavers,  throwing  up  earth- 
works. Similar  operations  were  in  progress 
on  every  hill  around  the  city,  and  many 
an  hour  I  spent  carrying  water  for  the  boys 
in  the  hot  sun. 

When  I  descended  the  hill  I  always  went 
to  the  yard  at  the  Birmingham  end  of  the 
bridge,  and  watched  the  workmen  who  were 
building  Monitors.  I  do  not  remember  how 
many  Monitors  were  built  there,  but  I  re- 
member very  distinctly  seeing  the  launch  of 
the  Manayunk.  Later  she  steamed  away 
down  the  Ohio,  and  I  knew  no  more  of  her. 
The  original  Monitor,  the  wonderful  little 
craft  that  so  ably  defended  the  Minnesota  in 
Hampton  Roads,  was  my  special  object  of 
worship  in  those  days.  Little  did  I  dream 
then  that  I  should  live  to  know  the  sea  as 
well  as  I  do,  or  to  drill  on  the  deck  of  the 
Minnesota.  The  Monitor's  success  in  her 
great  duel  with  the  Merrimac  filled  all  of  us 
boys  with  excitement.  We  promptly  built 
Monitors  with  round  boxes  placed  on  shingles 
sharpened  at  both  ends.  Then  we  made 
Merrimacs  of  an  equally  rude  type.  Next 
9 


STRANGE  STORIES   OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

we  went  down  to  the  river,  and  in  the  still 
water  between  the  big  stern-wheelers  that 
lay  with  their  noses  against  the  levee,  we 
had  some  of  the  most  tremendous  naval 
engagements  that  ever  escaped  the  eye  of 
history.  And  the  Merrimac  was  always  de- 
feated, whereupon  she  retreated  up  the  river 
and  promptly  blew  herself  up.  Those  were 
good  times! 

But  when  the  man  came  with  the  Great 
Diorama  of  the  War  we  learned  something 
new.  A  diorama  is,  to  be  Hibernian,  just 
like  a  panorama,  only  it  is  different.  In  a 
panorama  you  see  pictures ;  in  a  diorama  you 
see  moving  figures  cut  out  in  profile.  After 
each  scene  the  curtain  must  be  lowered  and 
the  stage  reset.  I  remember  that  this  man 
(I  wish  I  knew  his  name)  began  his  enter- 
tainment with  an  ordinary  series  of  panoramic 
views,  after  which  the  curtain  fell,  and  we 
prepared  ourselves  for  the  new  revelation. 
When  the  curtain  rose  again,  we  saw  a 
miniature  stage  set  with  scenic  waters.  In 
the  background  were  two  large  ships,  cut 
out  in  profile,  and  in  the  distance  were  two  or 
10 


A  BOY'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

three  more.  The  next  moment  we  were 
startled  by  seeing  a  flash  shoot  out  from  the 
side  of  one,  followed  by  a  dull  boom.  Then 
the  other  big  ship  fired,  and  next  the  forts, 
which  were  at  the  sides,  opened  up.  We 
began  to  tingle  with  excitement,  and  could 
hardly  remain  in  our  seats. 

Suddenly  a  long,  low  craft,  looking  some- 
thing like  an  inverted  cake-pan,  came  gliding 
out  at  the  front  of  the  stage.  Then  we  knew 
we  were  looking  at  the  feared  and  hated 
Merrimac.  She  opened  fire  on  the  ships. 
Then  she  circled  round,  and,  putting  on 
steam,  rushed  against  one  of  them  with  her 
ram.  The  poor  wooden  vessel  careened  far 
over  on  one  side.  Then  the  Merrimac 
drew  back,  and  hurled  two  shots  into  her  at 
short  range.  The  big  ship  began  to  sink. 
She  went  clear  away  down  out  of  sight — 
royals,  trucks,  and  all.  Next  the  Merrimac 
went  for  the  other  ship;  but  just  then  we 
saw  another  queer  craft  sail  on.  "It  was 
the  immortal  cheese-box  on  a  plank" — the 
Monitor.  The  Merrimac  paused.  The  two 
iron-clads  seemed  to  stop  and  look  at  each 
ii 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

other.  Then  they  rushed  together.  And 
how  they  spit  fire  and  banged  and  butted! 
We  boys  were  crazy  with  excitement.  And 
when  suddenly  the  Merrimac  blew  up  with  a 
loud  report,  and  the  Monitor  displayed  half 
a  dozen  American  flags,  we  cheered  till  we 
were  hoarse.  It  was  not  strictly  according 
to  history,  but  it  was  glorious.  And  we  boys 
went  right  home,  and  began  building  a  Grand 
Diorama  of  the  War  in  the  cellar  of  the  St. 
Charles  Hotel  the  next  day.  That  diorama 
would  have  been  a  tremendous  success  but 
for  one  thing.  Jim  Rial's  brother  dropped  a 
match  into  the  powder-bottle,  which  blew 
up  the  diorama  and  nearly  blinded  the  boy. 
However,  we  built  another  diorama ;  and  the 
boy  got  well. 

But  to  return  to  Gettysburg.  When 
troops  were  being  hurried  forward  to  that 
point  from  every  direction,  thousands  of 
soldiers  passed  through  Pittsburg.  Many 
of  them  were  sent  out  by  the  Pittsburg  and 
Connellsville  Railroad  to  Uniontown,  and 
thence  to  the  front.  Every  afternoon  I  used 
to  go  to  the  Connellsville  station,  at  the  foot 

12 


A  BOY'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

of  Ross  Street,  and  ride  out  on  the  four- 
o'clock  train  as  far  as  the  historic  Braddock's 
Field,  where,  you  remember,  the  British 
commander  Braddock  refused  to  take  Wash- 
ington's advice  in  the  matter  of  Indian- 
fighting,  and  paid  the  penalty.  This  station 
was  just  ten  miles  out,  and  I  could  get  back 
in  time  for  supper.  Attached  to  every  train 
out  in  those  days  were  several  flat-cars  with 
planks  laid  across  from  side  to  side  for  seats, 
and  these  cars  were  loaded  with  soldiers.  I 
always  rode  in  one  of  those  cars,  and  listened 
in  breathless  awe  to  the  conversation  of  those 
real  live  soldiers  who  were  going  out  to  fight. 
As  I  remember  them  now,  they  were  hearty, 
good-natured  fellows,  very  kind  to  the  little 
boy  who  took  so  much  interest  in  them. 
And  when  I  returned  to  Pittsburg  I  used  to 
dream  about  them  at  night,  and  wake  up 
very  early  in  the  morning  to  listen  for  the 
sound  of  the  guns  of  the  approaching  in- 
vaders. I  was  no  worse  than  older  people. 
Many  a  good  woman  in  Pittsburg  went  on 
the  roof  very  often  to  listen  for  those  same 
guns. 

13 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

Another  thing  which  I  remember  very 
distinctly  is  the  work  we  used  to  do  in  the 
public  schools  in  those  days.  Every  after- 
noon we  devoted  a  part  of  our  time  to  picking 
lint.  We  were  told  by  our  teachers  that  it 
was  to  be  sent  to  the  front,  where  it  would  be 
used  in  dressing  the  wounds  of  the  soldiers. 
None  of  us  dreamed  of  the  real  horrors  of 
war,  but  I  think  our  hearts  were  in  that  work 
just  the  same.  And  we  used  to  get  our 
mothers  to  make  housewives,  which  we  filled 
with  combs,  brushes,  and  soap;  and  these, 
too,  were  sent  to  the  front.  We  saw  soldiers 
going  to  war  every  day  with  no  other  baggage 
than  their  knapsacks,  and  we  well  under- 
stood, children  as  we  were,  that  the  housewife 
would  be  welcome  in  every  tent. 

And  finally  came  the  news  of  Appomattox. 
Guns  were  fired,  and  people  cheered,  and  we 
boys  simply  danced  war-dances  all  over  the 
city.  Soon  the  troops  began  to  come  home, 
and  then  we  had  our  eyes  opened  a  bit. 
The  boys  of  to-day  see  the  old  fellows  of  the 
Grand  Army  of  the  Republic  turn  out  in 
their  sober  blue  uniforms,  carrying  the  old 
14 


A  BOY'S   IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

battle -flags  carefully  wrapped  up,  and  the 
boys  think  them  a  monotonous  lot,  and  take 
little  interest  in  them.  But  I  saw  them 
come  back  with  their  bare  feet  sticking  out 
of  their  ragged  shoes,  with  the  legs  of  their 
trousers  and  the  arms  of  their  coats  hanging 
in  tatters,  with  the  army  blue  faded  by  the 
sun  and  washed  by  the  rain  to  a  sickly 
greenish-gray,  with  their  faces  baked  and 
frozen  and  blown  till  they  looked  like  sheets 
of  sole-leather,  saving  the  happy  smiles  they 
bore.  And  I  saw  those  old  battle-flags  come 
back  with  their  rent  and  shivered  stripes 
streaming  in  the  wind,  while  strong  men  stood 
looking  on  with  tears  in  their  eyes.  And  I 
saw  one  of  my  uncles,  who  had  been  a  prisoner 
in  Anderson ville,  come  to  Pittsburg  with  a 
gangrened  foot,  which  my  mother  dressed 
every  day.  I  shall  never  forget  his  condi- 
tion, nor  that  of  the  heroes  who  marched 
through  Pittsburg  day  after  day  when  the 
war  was  over.  I  am  sorry  there  had  to  be  a 
war;  but  I  am  unspeakably  grateful  that  I 
was  old  enough  to  get  those  impressions, 
which  will  live  as  long  as  I  do.  They  spring 
i5 


STRANGE   STORIES   OF   THE   CIVIL  WAR 

to  life  again  whenever  I  see  troops  on  the 
march,  and  they  give  the  old  flag  a  meaning 
for  me  which  I  think  it  cannot  have  for  those 
without  my  memories. 


II 

THE   CAPTAIN    OF    COMPANY   Q 
The    Tale    of   an    Unenlisted    Soldier 

ftftgEBEDEE  was  the  Captain  of 
Company  Q.  Sheer  merit  had 
won  him  the  title.  He  was  the 
VH  first  and  the  last  of  his  kind.  He 
stood  unique.  For  it  was  the  only  Com- 
pany Q  that  had  ever  been  captained — 
Company  Q  being  the  stragglers  and  camp- 
followers,  miscellaneous  and  heterogeneous, 
who  drift  in  an  army's  wake. 

Unique  though  Zebedee's  position  was, 
it  was  far  from  satisfying  the  ambition 
that  he  had  once  cherished.  For  he  had 
longed  to  be  a  soldier.  He  had  dreamed 
of  doing  great  deeds;  of  rising  from  the 
ranks,  of  steadily  mounting  upward,  of 
winning  lofty  title  and  mighty  fame. 
*7 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

But  the  surgeon  curtly  refused  him.  It 
was  the  heart,  he  said.  And  when  Zebedee, 
amazed,  bewildered,  for  he  had  never  suspect- 
ed himself  to  be  a  sick  man,  stammered  a  pro- 
test, the  surgeon  said  a  few  cutting  words 
about  worthless  men  trying  to  get  in  for  pay 
and  pension — which  words  were  to  Zebedee 
as  blows.  And  he  yielded  with  such  bleak  fi- 
nality as  never  again  to  ask  for  enlistment. 

But  although  he  himself  could  scarcely 
explain  how  it  came  to  pass,  he  found  him- 
self a  camp-follower,  a  drudge,  a  volunteer 
servant  to  the  command  of  a  general  to  whose 
fame  he  gave  humble  and  admiring  awe.  At 
first  the  soldiers  had  tolerated  him ;  gradually 
there  had  come  a  recognition  of  his  willing- 
ness, his  good -nature,  his  real  cleverness. 
It  somehow  came  to  be  believed  that  it  was 
by  some  vagrant  choice  of  his  own  that  he 
was  a  member  of  Company  Q,  and  none  ever 
dreamed  that  he  longed  with  pathetic  in- 
tensity for  his  lost  chance  of  being  a  soldier. 
On  the  march  he  wore  a  look  of  exaltation 
whenever,  which  was  not  seldom,  two  or 
three  of  the  men  would  carelessly  give  him 
18 


THE  CAPTAIN   OF   COMPANY  Q 

their  muskets  to  carry.  In  the  camp  he  was 
happy  if  he  could  do  some  service — he  would 
chop  wood,  build  fires,  and  cook.  And  in 
time  of  battle  he  was  perforce  resigned  when 
the  soldiers  marched  by  him  into  the  smoke 
and  the  roar,  leaving  him  behind  to  hold 
some  officer's  horse  or  look  after  some  tent. 

But  the  innate  spirit  that,  if  given  the 
opportunity,  would  have  carried  him  far  up- 
ward, made  him  master  of  the  motley  mem- 
bers of  Q,  and  it  gradually  came  to  be  that 
his  words  had  the  force  of  law  with  them. 

He  never  assumed  a  complete  uniform. 
His  very  reverence  for  it  and  for  all  that  it 
represented  kept  him  from  such  a  height  of 
undeserved  glory.  But  he  tried  to  satisfy 
his  craving  soul  with  the  tattered  jacket  of  an 
artilleryman,  a  shabby  cavalry  cap,  and  the 
breeches  of  infantry;  and  the  sartorial  dis- 
similitude, through  the  working  of  some 
obscure  logic,  obviated  presumption  yet  kept 
alive  some  pride. 

How  it  happened  that  Zebedee  was  so 
often  in  dangerous  places  which  the  other 
members  of  Company  Q  carefully  avoided 
19 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

was  a  puzzle  to  the  soldiers,  and  it  came  to 
be  ascribed  to  a  sort  of  blundering  heedless- 
ness— not  bravery,  of  course,  for  he  was  only 
a  camp-follower. 

And  one  day,  when  the  command  failed 
in  its  attack  upon  a  fort,  Zebedee  found  him- 
self with  the  handful  who  fled  for  safety  close 
up  against  the  hostile  works.  There  they 
were  protected  from  shots  from  above;  and 
the  enemy  dared  not,  on  account  of  a  cover- 
ing fire,  come  out  into  the  open  to  attack 
them ;  and  there  they  hoped  to  stay  till  dark- 
ness should  permit  retreat. 

But  the  day  was  blisteringly  hot,  and  thirst 
began  to  madden  them.  Then  Zebedee 
slung  about  him  a  score  of  canteens,  and 
dashed  out  across  the  plain,  and  lead  rained 
pitilessly  about  him  as  he  jingled  on,  but 
he  was  not  hit.  His  canteens  were  swiftly 
filled  by  friendly  hands,  and  he  turned  to  go 
back  across  that  deadly  space. 

He  knew  that  fire  would  flash  along  the 

hostile  works;  that  lead  again  would  rain; 

but  he  did  not  waver.     He  saw  the  dark  line 

of  his  comrades,  he  knew  their  misery,  he 

20 


THEN    ZEBEDEE    DASHED    OUT    ACROSS    THE    PLAIN 


THE  CAPTAIN  OF  COMPANY  Q 

could  at  least  give  one  life  for  his  country 
— and  the  men  watched  him  with  awe  as, 
with  a  curious  gravity,  he,  about  to  die,  sa- 
luted them  in  farewell  and  ran  unhesitating- 
ly out.  A  sort  of  glory  was  upon  his  coun- 
tenance. There  was  a  hush.  Friend  and 
enemy  alike  were  awed  and  still.  No  sound 
was  heard  but  the  rapid  patter  of  his  feet. 
There  came  no  flash  and  smoke,  no  splinter- 
ing sound  of  musketry.  But  there  arose  a 
mighty  shout  —  friends  and  enemies  alike 
were  cheering  him! — and  he  sank,  hysterical- 
ly sobbing,  among  his  comrades. 

This,  of  course,  brought  about  important 
recognition.  The  General  heard  of  it ;  heard, 
too,  that  the  Captain  of  Company  Q  did  not, 
from  some  crotchet,  some  whimsy,  wish  to 
be  a  regular  soldier. 

"Zebedee,"  he  said,  "you  are  a  brave 
man." 

Zebedee 's  heart  beat  high  with  hope,  and 
the  look  of  exaltation  shone  in  his  eyes. 
Not  knowing  whether  or  not  to  use  words, 
or  what  words  to  use,  he  could  only  stand 
stiffly  at  salute — he  knew  how  to  salute,  al- 

21 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

though  no  drill-master  had  ever  paid  atten- 
tion to  him;  he  had  eagerly  watched  and 
practised,  and  was  perfect  at  this  as  at  many- 
other  things.  He  stood  rigidly  at  salute — 
but  his  eyes  were  like  the  eyes  of  a  faithful 
dog  that  hungrily  watches  his  master  for  a 
bone. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  are  not  an  enlisted  man, 
Zebedee." 

Ah!  how  high  his  heart  beat  now!  To  be 
a  corporal — perhaps  even  a  sergeant — 

The  General  went  on,  speaking  slowly  so 
that  the  full  sense  of  his  condescension  should 
sink  in:  "And  so,  you  shall  be  my  own  per- 
sonal servant." 

Zebedee  stood  rigid  as  if  he  were  a  piece 
of  mechanism,  and  all  expression  was  swept 
from  his  face  as  marks  are  swept  from  a 
slate. 

And  having  thus  conferred  honor,  the 
General  went  out;  he,  the  great  warrior  so 
able  to  discern  the  hidden  movements  of  an 
opposing  army,  to  read  the  secret  plans  of 
an  enemy,  but  quite  unable  to  discern  the 
poignant  suffering  of  a  brave  man. 

22 


THE  CAPTAIN  OF  COMPANY  Q 

Zebedee  was  a  sturdy  man,  not  given  to 
running  away  or  to  changeableness.  In  his 
heart — the  heart  of  which  the  surgeon  had 
spoken  so  contemptuously — he  had  enlisted 
for  the  war;  he  would  not  be  permitted,  so  it 
seemed,  to  fight  the  good  fight,  but  he  must 
patiently  finish  the  course  and  keep  the 
faith. 

What  mattered  it  now  that  by  observation 
he  had  learned  many  things  besides  how  to 
salute!  With  bitter  resignation  he  would 
watch  the  coming  and  going  of  officers,  the 
forms  and  ceremonies  of  war.  At  dress 
parade  he  knew  just  when  the  drums  were  to 
march  slowly  down  from  the  right  flank ;  just 
when  there  was  to  be  the  thrice-repeated, 
long,  brisk  roll;  just  when  the  drums  were 
to  turn  back,  with  quicker  step ;  just  how  the 
commanding  officer  out  there  in  front  would 
keep  his  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his  sword ;  just 
when  the  adjutant  would  take  his  place  at  the 
front  of  the  line ;  just  when  was  to  come  the 
command,  "First  sergeants  to  the  front  and 
centre!"  The  roll  of  drums,  and  the  crash 
of  music,  and  the  tramp  of  many  feet — and 
23 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

the  Captain  of  Company  Q  would  turn  away, 
his  eyes  rilled  with  tears,  as  vague  visions 
came  of  the  heights  to  which  he  had  aspired 
when  he  hurried  to  enlist — before  he  knew 
he  had  a  heart.  But  he  knew  it  now;  he 
knew  it,  and  it  hurt. 

In  the  uncommunicative  companionship 
of  General  and  servant  he  learned  much. 
He  learned  to  know  and  almost  to  love  the 
stern,  strong  man,  who  held  his  men  in  iron 
discipline  and  led  them  into  battle  with  a 
fierceness  that  was  almost  joy. 

There  came,  too,  a  sort  of  liking  for  Zebedee 
on  the  part  of  the  grim  officer.  He  trusted 
him,  sometimes  let  him  write  orders,  treated 
him  with  a  curt  kindliness,  and  often  per- 
mitted him  to  remain  within  hearing  when 
discussions  went  on. 

And  Zebedee,  still  in  touch  with  Company 
Q,  which  stood  more  in  awe  of  him  than  ever, 
and  in  touch,  since  his  day  of  glory,  with  the 
men,  came  also  to  know  and  to  understand 
the  officers.  By  observation,  divination, 
putting  together  this  and  that,  he  came  to 
know  how  much  depended  upon  the  per- 
24 


THE  CAPTAIN  OF  COMPANY  Q 

sonality  of  the  General,  and  how  bitter  was 
the  rivalry  among  those  next  in  command; 
he  knew  that  they  would  do  their  utmost 
under  the  overmastering  influence  of  their 
leader's  spirit,  but  that  jealousy  and  laxity 
would  work  disaster  should  the  potent  head- 
ship be  lost. 

And  with  this  there  came  to  Zebedee  a  new 
sense  of  responsibility  and  pride.  When  so 
much  depended  upon  the  General,  surely  the 
importance  was  great  of  the  servant  who  saw 
to  it  that  he  should  sleep  in  comfort  and 
properly  eat! 

He  no  longer  wore  the  old  clothes  whose 
acquisition  had  been  such  pride  to  him.  The 
General  had  given  him  some  of  his  own  cast- 
off  things,  which  fitted  him  measurably  well 
and  relieved  the  shabbiness  of  effect  which 
would  not  have  consorted  with  his  present 
dignity. 

There  had  been  a  day  of  fighting,  a  day  of 

doubt.     The  General,  almost  overwhelmingly 

outnumbered,  had  fought  with  splendid  skill. 

But    as    night    fell    there    went   shiveringly 

25 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

through  the  ranks  the  rumor  that  he  had 
been  desperately  hurt. 

The  General  lay  unconscious  in  his  tent. 
Absolute  quiet  had  been  ordered.  Zebedee 
must  watch  him,  nurse  him,  tend  him,  and 
the  sentinels  must  keep  even  the  highest 
officers  away.  The  sentinels'  duty  would  be 
well  done,  for  iron  discipline  had  taught 
each  man  to  hold  the  General's  tent  a  thing 
sacred. 

Absolute  silence  had  been  ordered.  And, 
as  if  heeding,  the  rattle  of  musketry  died 
away,  the  sullen  cannon  stopped  from  mut- 
tering, even  there  ceased  the  sound  of  tram- 
pling feet,  of  rolling  wagons,  of  the  swinging 
tinkle  of  canteens.  Only  the  chirring  hum 
of  frogs  and  katydids  and  tree-toads,  the 
multitudinous  murmur  of  a  Virginia  sum- 
mer night,  was  heard.  Then  from  far  in 
the  distance  came  solemnly  the  strain,  "  My 
country,  'tis  of  thee,"  and  the  soul  of  Zebedee 
was  thrilled  and  uplifted  as  never  before  in 
his  poor  life. 

Once  in  a  while  the  chief  surgeon  hurried 
back  from  the  multitude  of  other  cases  that 
26 


THE   CAPTAIN  OF  COMPANY  Q 

the  day  had  given.  In  piercing  anxiety 
Zebedee  watched  by  the  General's  side. 
" Has  there  been  any  change?"  "There  has 
been  no  change." 

Slowly  the  hours  marched  towards  morn- 
ing. The  chief  surgeon  again  appeared  and 
led  Zebedee  outside  the  tent.  "  There  will 
be  an  advance  and  an  engagement  at  day- 
break. The  General  will  sleep  for  hours.  I 
may  be  unable  to  come  in  again  for  a  while. 
Be  sure  to  let  him  sleep.  I  depend  upon 
you,  Zebedee." 

Zebedee  had  held  all  surgeons  to  be  his 
enemies,  but  here  was  one  that  roused  his 
humble  devotion.  And  the  words  crystal- 
lized a  feeling  which  had  already  come  over 
him  with  almost  oppressive  weight — the  feel- 
ing that  upon  him,  Zebedee,  there  lay  a  heavy 
responsibility.  He  thought  of  the  renewed 
battle,  now  so  imminent,  and  as  by  a  flash 
of  inspiration  he  saw  the  results  of  jealousy 
and  half-hearted  co-operation;  he  saw  the 
soldiers,  like  frightened  children,  making  an 
ineffectual  stand ;  the  impotency  of  his  posi- 
tion came  upon  him  like  pain. 
27 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

He  glanced  from  the  tent.  A  nebulous 
lustre  marked  the  glow  from  the  enemy's 
fires.  Through  the  air  came  faintly  the 
mysterious  light  that  tells  of  the  coming 
of  morning.  A  dull  slow  wind  crept  laggard 
by.  Statued  sentinels  stood  stiff  and  still. 
Two  dimly  outlined  aides  conversed  in  cau- 
tious sibilation.  Silently  he  drew  back  and 
returned  to  the  General's  side. 

The  General  still  slept.  To  Zebedee's 
anxious  ears  a  soft  thudding  told  of  soldiers 
marching  through  the  feeble  light.  The 
sound  increased.  He  knew  that  shadows 
were  passing  by.  There  was  the  crunch  of 
heavy  wheels  and  he  knew  that  cannon, 
sulkily  tossing  their  lowered  heads  from  side 
to  side,  were  being  dragged  unwillingly  tow- 
ards fight.  Faintly  audible  firing  began  in 
the  far  distance,  and  the  sulky  cannon  set  up 
a  hoarse  and  excited  cry. 

The  laggard  dawn  came  with  a  plumping 
rain.  The  candle  in  the  bayonet  end  flamed 
yellow.  The  sounds  of  distant  battle  grew 
more  loud. 

The  General  opened  his  eyes.  He  sighed 
28 


THE  CAPTAIN   OF  COMPANY  Q 

with  a  great  weariness.  He  listened  to  the 
sounds,  and  thought  himself  again  a  boy,  on 
a  farm,  hearing  the  homely  noise  of  breakfast- 
dishes  and  milk-cans  and  wagons.  "  I  can't 
get  up — I'm  tired,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was 
as  the  querulous  voice  of  a  boy.  His  eyes 
fell  upon  Zebedee,  and  the  tense  look  of 
dread  anxiety  almost  roused  him.  He  sat 
up;  then  fell  back,  smiling  quietly.  "I 
have  always  trusted  you,  Zebedee,"  he  said, 
simply,  in  such  a  tone  as  Zebedee  had  never 
before  heard;  "always — trusted — you."  And 
with  that,  he  was  dead. 

Dead,  and  the  battle  was  on.  To  Zebedee 
it  meant  the  end  of  all  things  precious.  His 
mind  in  its  agony  lost  all  sense  of  proportion. 
The  General  was  dead! — that  was  the  one 
important  fact  in  all  the  universe. 

A  shell  flew  over  the  tent.  Already  the 
enemy  were  advancing!  Another  shell,  and 
another  and  another.  They  fascinated  him. 
In  their  sounds  they  marked  the  full  range 
of  life  and  of  passion.  One  shrieked,  one 
groaned,  one  muttered  like  a  miser  counting 
gold,  one  whispered  like  a  child,  one  was 
29 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF   THE   CIVIL  WAR 

petulant,  one  expostulated,  one  whispered 
softly  like  a  maid  confessing  love.  Zebedee 
shivered.  Suddenly  the  shell  sounds  turned 
to  taunts.  He  could  have  wept  from  very 
impotence.  He  felt  choking,  smothered. 
Passionate  cannon  began  a  louder  uproar. 

The  General  was  dead.  Yes ;  that  was  the 
one  important  fact  in  all  the  universe.  He, 
only  he,  knew! — And  suddenly  there  came 
an  awesome  thought. 

Even  from  the  first  frightened  contem- 
plation of  it  he  snatched  a  fearful  joy.  He 
steadied  himself.  He  drew  himself  up  to  his 
full  height.  He  drew  a  deep  breath  and 
stretched  out  his  arms  as  a  man  preparing 
for  some  feat  of  strength.  His  face  grew 
strange,  and  a  thousand  tiny  wrinkles  aged 
him  as  the  thought  bewilderingly  grew.  His 
breath  came  in  queer  respirations. 

The  sinister  droning  of  another  shell — and 
doubt  fell  from  him  like  a  garment. 

The  astonished  aides  saw  the  General  come 

forth  into  the  rain,  with  hat  drawn  over  his 

face  and  collar  turned  up  high.     Something 

of   menacing   austerity   in   his   motions   re- 

30 


THE  CAPTAIN  OF  COMPANY  Q 

pressed  all  words  of  sympathy  or  dissuasion. 
In  an  instant  he  was  upon  a  horse  and  had  set 
off  at  headlong  gallop  for  the  front. 

Panic  had  already  begun.  Men  were  con- 
fusedly huddling,  firing  distractedly  and  at 
random.  A  curious  quaking  cry  was  be- 
ginning to  arise — the  cry  of  frightened  men 
in  hysteria;  and  ranks  were  beginning  to 
crumble,  and  soldiers  were  on  the  verge  of 
tumultuous  retreat. 

But  now  the  General  was  there!  Like 
magic  the  news  spread.  His  very  presence 
checked  the  panic  and  hysteria.  He  gave 
a  few  quick  orders,  in  a  voice  so  tense  and 
strange  that  the  officers  scarcely  knew  it. 
His  wild,  stark  energy  stirred  officers  and  men 
into  invincibleness.  It  was  as  if  the  fate 
of  all  the  world  and  all  time  hung  upon 
what  he  could  accomplish  in  the  few  minutes 
thus  permitted  him.  He  dared  not  stop  to 
think. 

Slowly  the  enemy  crumbled.  The  sun 
struggled  through  the  clouds  and  the  colors 
shone  in  glorified  indistinctness  in  a  wet 
glitter  of  sunlight. 

3  31 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

It  was  over  now.  He  turned  his  horse 
and  rode  slowly  back  towards  the  tent. 
"Don't  follow  me,"  he  said,  curtly.  And 
he  rode  back,  slowly  and  alone.  The  cry 
of  the  cannon  was  now  triumphant  and  glad. 
A  shell,  whirling  above  him,  spluttered  in 
futile  animosity.  The  wild  cheering  was 
music  to  his  ears. 

His  dream  was  over  now — the  dream  he 
had  dreamed  when  he  longed  to  enlist.  He 
flung  up  his  arms  and  laughed  aloud.  His 
dream!  To  enlist  as  a  private,  to  win 
patiently  through  grades  of  sergeant  and 
lieutenant,  to  captain  and  colonel  and  gen- 
eral in  command! 

He  wearily  dropped  from  his  horse.  He 
went  into  the  tent.  The  Captain  of  Com- 
pany Q  looked  down  upon  the  General's 
peaceful  face. 


Ill 

MIDSHIPMAN   JACK,    U.S.N. 
The    Action    of    Appalachicola 

tSMp  AM  not  one  of  those  fellows  who 
T  if  '  can  fight  and  run  away,  and  live 
*  ||to  %^  some  other  day,'"  one 
SWWfeof  the  bravest  Lieutenant  -  Com- 
manders in  the  United  States  navy  said  one 
evening  to  a  party  of  friends,  who  were 
making  him  feel  uncomfortable  by  discussing 
his  brilliant  war  record.  "  My  bad  leg  won't 
let  me  run,  so  I  always  have  to  stand  and 
fight  it  out." 

"Why,  Commander,"  one  of  his  friends 
exclaimed,  "  I  did  not  know  that  you  had  a 
bad  leg.     You  do  not  limp." 

"No,"  he  answered,  "not  ordinarily.    But 
when  I  tire  myself  I  limp  a  little,  and  if  I  were 
to  undertake  to  run  I  should  come  to  grief." 
33 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

"Where  did  you  receive  your  injury?" 
another  asked. 

"In  action  at  Appalachicola,"  the  Com- 
mander replied;  "the  severest  action  I  ever 
saw." 

There  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes  as  he  spoke, 
and  he  looked  about  the  table  to  see  what 
effect  the  words  had  upon  his  friends.  Two 
of  them  merely  muttered  their  sympathy, 
and  the  third  asked  for  the  story  of  the  fight ; 
but  the  fourth  man  looked  up  with  a  comical 
expression  that  told  the  Commander  he  was 
understood  in  one  quarter  at  least. 

"You  will  certainly  have  to  tell  us  about 
that,"  this  fourth  man  laughed,  seeing  that 
the  Commander  was  waiting  for  a  question; 
"for  I  have  always  understood  that  Appala- 
chicola, being  an  out-of-the-way  place,  was 
one  of  the  few  Southern  towns  that  escaped 
without  a  scratch  in  the  war.  I  never  heard 
of  any  battle  there." 

"No,  there  was  no  battle  there,"  the  Com- 
mander replied,  "and  you  would  hardly  hear 
of  the  action,  because  there  were  so  few  en- 
gaged in  it.  In  fact,  I  was  the  only  one  on 
34 


MIDSHIPMAN  JACK,  U.S.N. 

the  Federal  side,  and  there  were  no  Con- 
federates. When  I  was  a  boy  there  I  fell  out 
of  a  pine-tree  and  broke  my  thigh ;  so  it  was 
my  own  action,  and  one  that  I  still  have 
reason  to  remember." 

This  was  the  Commander's  modest  way  of 
describing  an  accident  that  brought  out  all 
the  manliness  he  had  in  him,  and  made  him 
an  officer  in  the  United  States  navy,  and  he 
seldom  gives  any  other  account  of  it;  but 
some  of  the  grown-up  boys  of  Appalachicola 
tell  the  story  in  a  very  different  way — the 
same  "boys,"  some  of  them,  who  used  to 
set  out  in  parties  of  three  or  four  and  chase 
young  Jack  Radway  and  make  life  miserable 
for  him. 

Jack  had  a  strange  habit,  when  he  was 
between  fifteen  and  sixteen  (this  is  the  way 
they  tell  the  story  in  Appalachicola) ,  of  going 
down  to  the  wharf  and  sitting  by  the  half- 
hour  on  the  end  of  a  spile,  looking  out  over 
the  bay.  That  was  in  1862.  His  name  was 
not  Jack  Radway,  but  that  is  a  fairly  good 
sort  of  name,  and  on  account  of  the  Com- 
mander's modesty  it  will  have  to  answer  for 
35 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

the  present.  While  he  sat  in  this  way  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  keep  the  corner  of  one 
eye  on  the  wharf  and  the  adjacent  street, 
watching  for  enemies.  Oddly  enough,  every 
white  boy  in  the  town  was  Jack's  enemy, 
generous  as  he  was,  and  brave  and  good- 
hearted;  and  when  one  came  alone,  or  even 
two,  if  they  were  not  too  big,  he  was  always 
ready  to  stay  and  defend  himself.  But 
when  three  or  four  came  together  he  was 
forced  to  retire  to  his  father's  big  brick  ware- 
house, across  the  street.  They  would  not 
follow  him  there,  because  it  was  well  known 
that  the  rifle  standing  beside  the  desk  was 
always  kept  loaded. 

This  enmity  with  the  other  boys,  for  no 
fault  of  his  own,  was  Jack's  great  sorrow. 
A  year  or  two  before  he  had  been  a  favorite 
with  all  the  boys  and  girls,  and  now  he  was 
hungry  for  a  single  friend  of  his  own  age. 
The  reason  of  it  was  that  his  father  was  the 
only  Union  man  in  Appalachicola.  Every 
white  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  town 
sympathized  with  the  Confederacy,  except 
John  Radway  and  his  wife  and  their  son 
36 


MIDSHIPMAN   JACK,  U.S.N. 

Jack.  The  elder  Radway  had  thought  it 
over  when  the  trouble  began,  and  had  made 
up  his  mind  that  his  allegiance  belonged  to 
the  old  government  that  his  grandfather  had 
fought  for. 

Near  the  mouth  of  the  river  lay  the  Unit- 
ed States  gun-boat  Alleghany,  guarding  the 
harbor,  with  the  stars  and  stripes  floating 
bravely  at  her  stern. 

"  Look  at  that  flag,"  Jack's  father  told  him. 
"Your  great-grandfather  fought  for  it,  and 
I  want  you  always  to  honor  it.  It  is  the 
grandest  flag  in  the  whole  world.  It  is  my 
flag  and  yours,  and  you  must  never  desert  it." 

By  the  side  of  Mr,  Radway 's  house  stood 
a  tall  pine-tree,  much  higher  than  the  top 
of  the  house,  with  no  limbs  growing  out  of  the 
trunk  except  at  the  very  top,  after  the  man- 
ner of  Southern  pines.  Jack  was  a  great 
climber,  and  nearly  every  day,  when  he  did 
not  go  down-town,  he  "shinned"  up  this  tall 
tree  to  make  sure  that  the  gun-boat  was  still 
in  the  harbor.  And  one  day,  the  day  of 
what  the  Commander  calls  "the  action  at 
Appalachicola,"  he  lost  his  hold  in  some 
37 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

way,  or  a  limb  broke,  and  he  fell  from  the 
top  to  the  ground. 

For  some  time  he  lay  there  unconscious, 
and  when  he  came  to  his  senses  he  could  not 
get  up.  There  was  a  terrible  pain  in  his  left 
hip,  and  he  called  for  help,  and  his  mother 
and  some  of  the  colored  women  ran  out  and 
carried  him  into  the  house,  and  when  they 
laid  him  on  a  bed  he  fainted  again  from  the 
pain. 

Mr.  Radway  was  sent  for,  and  after  he  had 
examined  the  leg  as  well  as  he  could,  he 
looked  very  solemn,  for  there  was  no  doubt 
that  the  bone  was  badly  broken.  Even 
Jack,  young  as  he  was,  could  tell  that; 
but  with  all  his  pain  he  made  no  com- 
plaint. 

"  This  is  serious  business,"  Mr.  Radway  said 
to  his  wife  when  they  were  out  of  Jack's  hear- 
ing. '  'The  bone  is  badly  fractured  at  the  thigh, 
and  there  is  not  a  doctor  left  in  Appalachi- 
cola  to  set  it.  Every  one  of  them  is  away 
in  the  army,  and  I  don't  know  of  a  doctor 
within  a  hundred  miles.8 ' 

"Except  on  the  gun-boat/'  Mrs.  Radway 
38 


MIDSHIPMAN  JACK,  U.S.N. 

interrupted ;  "  there  must  be  a  surgeon  on  the 
gun-boat." 

"I  have  thought  of  that,"  Mr.  Radway 
answered;  "but  if  he  should  come  ashore  he 
would  almost  certainly  be  killed,  so  I  could 
not  ask  him  to  come.  And  if  I  should  take 
Jack  out  to  the  boat,  we  would  very  likely 
be  attacked  on  the  way.  I  must  take  time 
to  think." 

Medicines  were  scarce  in  Appalachicola  in 
those  days,  but  they  gave  Jack  a  few  drops 
of  laudanum  to  ease  the  pain,  and  made  a 
cushion  of  pillows  for  his  leg.  For  all  his 
terrible  suffering,  and  the  doubt  about  get- 
ting the  bone  set,  he  did  not  utter  a  word 
of  complaint.  But  he  turned  white  as  the 
pillows,  and  the  great  heat  of  midsummer  on 
the  shore  of  the  Gulf  added  to  his  misery. 

For  hours  Mr.  Radway  walked  the  floor, 
trying  to  make  up  his  mind  what  to  do. 
Jack's  suffering  was  agony  to  him,  and  the 
uncertainty  of  getting  help  increased  it. 
Late  in  the  evening,  when  all  the  household 
were  in  bed  but  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Radway,  they 
heard  the  sound  of  many  feet  coming  up  the 
39 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

walk,  then  a  shuffling  of  feet  on  the  piazza, 
and  a  heavy  knock  at  the  front  door. 

"Have  they  the  heart  for  that?"  Mr.  Rad- 
way  exclaimed.  "Could  they  come  to  at- 
tack us  when  they  know  what  trouble  we  are 
in?  Some  of  them  shall  pay  dearly  for  it 
if  they  have." 

The  knock  was  repeated,  louder  than  be- 
fore, and  Mr.  Radway  took  up  a  rifle  and 
started  for  the  door.  Standing  the  rifle  in 
the  corner  of  the  wall,  and  with  a  cocked 
revolver  in  one  hand,  he  turned  the  key  and 
opened  the  door  a  crack,  keeping  one  foot 
well  braced  against  it. 

"  You  don't  need  your  gun,  neighbor,"  said 
the  spokesman  of  the  party  without;  "it's 
a  peaceable  errand  we  are  on  this  time." 

"What  is  it?"  Mr.  Radway  asked,  still 
suspicious. 

"We  know  the  trouble  you  are  in,"  the 
man  continued,  "and  we  are  sorry  for  you. 
It's  not  John  Radway  we  are  down  on;  it's 
his  principles;  but  we  want  to  forget  them 
till  we  get  you  out  of  this  scrape.  There  are 
twenty  of  us  here,  all  your  neighbors  and 
40 


MIDSHIPMAN  JACK,  U.S.N. 

former  friends.  We  know  there  is  no  doctor 
in  Appalachicola,  and  we  have  come  to  say- 
that  if  you  can  get  the  surgeon  of  the  gun- 
boat to  come  ashore  and  mend  up  the  sick 
lad,  he  shall  have  safe-conduct  both  ways. 
We  will  guard  him  ourselves,  and  we  pledge 
our  word  that  not  a  hair  of  his  head  shall  be 
touched." 

This  friendly  act  came  nearer  to  breaking 
down  John  Rad way's  bold  front  than  all  the 
persecutions  he  had  been  subjected  to.  He 
threw  the  door  wide  open,  put  the  revolver  in 
his  pocket,  and  grasped  the  spokesman's  hand. 

"I  need  not  try  to  thank  you,"  he  said; 
"  you  know  what  I  would  say  if  I  could.  My 
poor  Jack  is  in  great  pain,  and  I  shall  make 
up  my  mind  between  this  and  daylight  what 
had  better  be  done." 

The  knowledge  that  he  was  surrounded  by 
friends  instead  of  enemies  made  Jack  feel  bet- 
ter in  a  few  minutes ;  but  the  pain  was  too 
great  to  be  relieved  permanently  in  such  a 
way,  and  all  night  long  he  lay  with  his  teeth 
shut  tight,  determined  to  make  no  complaint. 

By  daylight  he  was  in  such  a  high  fever 
41 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF   THE  CIVIL  WAR 

that  his  father  had  no  further  doubts  about 
what  to  do.  He  must  have  medical  attend- 
ance at  once;  and  the  quickest  way  was  to 
take  him  out  to  the  gun-boat,  rather  than 
risk  the  delay  of  getting  the  surgeon  ashore. 
So  a  cot-bed  was  converted  into  a  stretcher 
by  lashing  handles  to  the  sides.  Colored 
men  were  sent  for  to  carry  it,  and  another 
was  sent  down  to  the  shore  to  make  Mr. 
Rad way's  little  boat  ready. 

The  morning  sun  was  just  beginning  to 
gild  the  smooth  water  of  Appalachicola  Bay, 
when  the  after-watchman  on  the  gun-boat's 
deck,  who  for  some  time  had  been  watching 
a  little  sail-boat  with  half  a  table-cloth  flying 
at  the  mast-head,  called  out: 

"Small  flag -of -truce  boat  on  the  port 
quarter!" 

Jack  Radway,  lying  on  the  stretcher  in 
the  bottom  of  the  boat,  heard  the  words  re- 
peated in  a  lower  tone,  evidently  at  the  door 
of  the  Captain's  cabin:  " Small  flag-of -truce 
boat  on  the  port  quarter,  sir." 

An  instant  later  a  young  officer  appeared 
at  the  rail  with  a  marine-glass  in  his  hand. 
42 


MIDSHIPMAN  JACK,  U.S.N. 

"  Ahoy  there  in  the  boat!"  he  called.  " Put 
up  your  helm!     Sheer  off!" 

The  Alleghany  lay  in  an  enemy's  waters, 
and  she  was  not  to  be  caught  napping.  Noth- 
ing was  allowed  to  approach  without  giving 
a  good  reason  for  it. 

Then  Jack's  father  stood  up  in  the  boat. 
"I  have  a  boy  here  with  a  broken  thigh," 
he  said.     "  I  want  your  surgeon  to  set  it." 

"Who  are  you?"  the  officer  asked. 

"John  Radway — a  loyal  man,"  was  the 
answer. 

The  name  was  as  good  as  a  passport,  for  the 
gun-boat  people  had  heard  of  John  Radway. 

"Come  alongside,"  the  officer  called;  and 
five  minutes  later  a  big  sailor  had  Jack  in  his 
arms,  carrying  him  up  the  gangway,  and  he 
was  taken  into  the  boat's  hospital  and  laid  on 
another  cot.  It  was  an  unusual  thing  on  a 
naval  vessel,  and  when  the  big  bluff  surgeon 
came  the  Captain  was  with  him,  and  several 
more  of  the  officers. 

The  examination  gave  Jack  more  pain  than 
he  had  had  before,  but  still  he  kept  his  teeth 
clinched,  and  refused  even  to  moan. 
43 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

"It  is  a  bad  fracture,  and  should  have 
been  attended  to  sooner,"  the  surgeon  said  at 
length.  "There  is  nothing  to  be  done  for  it 
now  but  to  take  off  the  leg." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not!"  Mr.  Radway  exclaimed. 
"  Is  there  no  other  way  ?" 

"He  knows  best,  father,"  Jack  said;  *'he 
will  do  the  best  he  can  for  me." 

"He  is  too  weak  now  for  an  operation," 
the  surgeon  continued;  "but  you  can  leave 
him  with  me,  and  I  think  by  to-morrow  he 
will  be  able  to  stand  it." 

If  Jack  had  made  the  least  fuss  at  the 
prospect  of  having  his  leg  cut  off,  or  had  let 
a  single  groan  escape,  there  is  hardly  any 
doubt  that  he  would  be  limping  through  life 
on  one  leg.  But  the  brave  way  that  he  bore 
the  pain  and  the  doctor's  verdict  made  him 
a  powerful  friend. 

The  Captain  of  a  naval  vessel  cannot  con- 
trol his  surgeon's  treatment  of  a  case;  but 
the  Captain's  wishes  naturally  go  a  long  way, 
even  with  the  surgeon.  So  it  was  a  great 
point  for  Jack  when  the  Captain  interceded 
for  him. 

44 


MIDSHIPMAN  JACK,  U.S.N. 

"There's  the  making  of  an  Admiral  in  that 
lad  in  the  hospital,"  the  Captain  told  the 
doctor  later  in  the  day.  "  I  never  saw  a  boy 
bear  pain  better.  I  wish  you  would  save  his 
leg  if  you  possibly  can." 

"  He'd  be  well  much  quicker  to  take  it  off," 
the  surgeon  retorted.  "But  I'll  give  him 
every  chance  I  can.  There  is  a  bare  possi- 
bility that  I  may  be  able  to  save  it." 

There  was  joy  in  the  Radway  family  when 
it  became  known  that  there  was  a  chance  of 
saving  Jack's  leg;  but  all  that  Jack  himself 
would  say  was,  "Leave  it  all  to  the  doctor; 
he  will  do  what  he  can." 

Three  weeks  afterwards  Jack  still  lay  in  the 
Alleghany's  hospital  with  two  legs  to  his 
body,  but  one  half  hidden  in  splints  and 
plaster.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Radway  visited  him 
every  day,  and  the  broken  bone  was  healing 
so  nicely  that  the  doctor  thought  that  in 
three  or  four  weeks  more  Jack  might  be  able 
to  hobble  about  the  deck  on  crutches,  when 
more  trouble  came.  A  new  gun-boat  steamed 
into  the  harbor  to  take  the  Alleghany's  place, 
bringing  orders  for  the  Alleghany  to  go  at  once 
45 


STRANGE   STORIES  OP   THE  CIVIL  WAR 

to  the  Brooklyn  Navy- Yard.  This  was  par- 
ticularly unfortunate  for  Jack,  for  his  broken 
bone  was  just  in  that  state  where  the  motion 
of  taking  him  ashore  would  be  likely  to  dis- 
place it.  But  that  unwelcome  order  from 
Washington  proved  to  be  a  long  step  towards 
making  Jack  one  of  our  American  naval 
heroes. 

"It  would  be  a  great  risk  to  take  him 
ashore,"  the  surgeon  said  to  Mr.  Radway. 
"The  least  movement  of  the  leg  would  set 
him  back  to  where  we  began.  You  had 
much  better  let  him  go  North  with  us.  The 
voyage  will  do  him  good;  and  even  if  we 
are  not  sent  back  here,  he  can  easily  make 
his  way  home  when  he  is  able  to  travel." 

Nothing  could  have  suited  Jack  better 
than  this,  for  he  had  become  attached  to  the 
gun-boat  and  her  officers;  so  it  was  soon 
settled  that  he  was  to  lie  still  on  his  bed  and 
be  carried  to  Brooklyn.  For  more  than  a 
month  he  lay  there  without  seeing  anything 
of  the  great  city  on  either  side  of  him;  and 
the  Alleghany  was  already  under  orders  to 
sail  for  Key  West  before  he  was  able  to 
46 


MIDSHIPMAN   JACK,  U.S.N. 

venture  on  deck  with  a  crutch  under  each 
arm.  There  were  delays  in  getting  away, 
so  by  the  time  the  gun-boat  was  steaming 
down  the  coast  Jack  was  walking  slowly 
about  her  deck  with  a  cane,  and  the  color  was 
in  his  cheeks  again  and  the  old  sparkle  in  his 
eyes.  He  was  in  hopes  of  finding  a  schooner 
at  Key  West  that  would  carry  him  to  Ap- 
palachicola;  but  he  was  not  to  see  the  old 
town  again  for  many  a  day. 

The  Alleghany  was  a  little  below  Hatteras, 
when  she  sighted  a  Confederate  blockade- 
runner,  and  she  immediately  gave  chase. 
But,  much  to  the  surprise  of  the  officers,  this 
blockade-runner  did  not  run  away,  as  they 
generally  did.  She  was  much  larger  than 
the  Alleghany,  and  well  manned  and  armed, 
and  she  preferred  to  stay  and  fight.  Almost 
before  he  knew  it  Jack  was  in  the  midst  of  a 
hot  naval  battle.  The  two  vessels  were  soon 
close  together,  and  there  was  such  a  thunder 
of  guns  and  such  a  smother  of  smoke  that  he 
does  not  pretend  to  remember  exactly  what 
happened.  But  after  it  was  all  over,  and 
the  blockade-runner  was  a  prize,  with  the 

4  47 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL   WAR 

stars  and  stripes  flying  from  her  stern,  Jack 
walked  as  straight  as  anybody  down  to  the 
little  hospital  where  he  had  spent  so  many 
weeks. 

His  mother  would  hardly  have  known  him 
as  he  stepped  into  the  hospital  and  waited 
till  the  surgeon  had  time  to  take  a  big  splinter 
from  his  left  arm. 

"Where's  your  cane,  young  man?"  the 
surgeon  asked,  when  Jack's  turn  came. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir!"  Jack  replied,  surprised 
to  find  himself  standing  without  it.  "I 
must  have  forgotten  all  about  it.  I  saw  one 
of  the  gunners  fall,  and  I  took  his  place,  and 
that's  all  I  remember,  sir,  except  seeing  the 
enemy  strike  her  colors." 

That  action  made  Jack  a  Midshipman  in 
the  United  States  navy,  and  gave  him  a 
share  in  the  prize-money,  and  a  year  later  he 
was  an  Ensign.  For  special  gallantry  in 
action  in  Mobile  Bay  he  was  made  a  Lieu- 
tenant before  the  close  of  the  war,  and  in  the 
long  years  since  then  he  has  risen  more  slowly 
to  the  rank  of  Lieutenant-Commander. 


IV 

CAPTAIN   BILLY 
Aid  and  Comfort  to  the  Enemy 

gpHEN  the  General  invited  the  For- 
\X7  8  tescue  girls  and  their  friends  to 
%  spend  an  evening  in  the  house  on 
^H  the  Square,  it  was  always  under- 
stood that  part  of  the  entertainment  was  to 
bea"  war  story,"  and,  on  the  special  evening 
I  refer  to,  a  barrel  of  apples,  sent  from  the 
'  'northern  part  of  the  State, "  gave  the  subject. 
"Oh  yes,  Molly,"  said  the  General  to  the 
girl,  whom  the  old  nurse  now  called  "the  eld- 
est Miss  Fortescue,"  "you  can  put  the  apples 
out;  and  they've  just  made  me  remember  I 
never  told  you  about  'Tobacco  Billy,'"  and 
as  his  eager  auditors  settled  themselves  com- 
fortably about  the  fire,  the  General,  with  his 
peculiar  quiet  smile,  began. 
49 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

"Just  hand  me  down  that  old  photograph 
in  the  little  black  frame ;  there  you  are — poor 
old  Tobacco  Billy!" 

"Old!"  exclaimed  Tom  Fortescue,  in  sur- 
prise, for  the  picture  was  that  of  a  plain- 
looking,  rather  gawky  lad  of  only  nineteen — 
a  "boy  in  blue" — with  honesty  and  fear- 
lessness in  every  line  of  his  homely,  gentle 
face. 

"Well,  I  don't  say  in  years,  perhaps, "  said 
the  General,  "but  in  wisdom.  Anyway, 
here's  his  story.  Give  that  coal  a  stir,  will 
you.     Now,  then,  here  we  are: 

"We  were  in  camp,  not  very  far  from 
Charleston,  and  it  was  a  pretty  serious  busi- 
ness with  us.  You  see,  we  hadn't  the  least 
idea  what  the  enemy  were  up  to.  My  partic- 
ular friend,  Captain  Kard,  of  the  Confederate 
army,  and  I  were  talking  about  it  not  long 
ago,  and  he  said  he  well  remembered  how, 
on  their  side,  they  were  chuckling  over  our 
perplexity.  Well,  I  must  tell  you  that  at  the 
extreme  end  of  our  camp  we  had  a  bridge, 
and  it  was  regularly  patrolled  by  two  of  the 
men  I  picked  out  for  the  purpose,  and  the 
50 


CAPTAIN  BILLY 

'other  side'  had  a  place  beyond  similarly 
patrolled.  If  any  message  had  to  be  sent 
over,  the  sentries  reversed  their  guns  as  a 
signal  of  truce,  and  word  was  exchanged. 

"  Now  although  we  were  pretty  badly  off 
for  provisions,  and  even  ammunition,  it 
wasn't  a  circumstance  to  the  condition  of  the 
'  Johnnies,'  as  we  called  the  gentlemen  over 
the  way,  and,  worst  of  all,  the  poor  chaps 
hadn't  the  comfort  of  a '  smoke '  even,  which, 
as  all  soldiers  will  tell  you,  keeps  the  gnawing 
feeling  of  hunger  away  for  a  time  at  least. 
No,  sir!  they  hadn't  five  pounds  of  tobacco 
in  their  camp.  But  never  mind!  I'll  tell 
you  what  they  did  have.  They  had  regu- 
larly every  day  a  copy  of  their  own  Charles- 
ton paper,  which,  of  course,  was  printed  for 
Confederate  eyes  alone.  I  was  sitting  in  my 
tent  one  night  smoking  and  thinking  and 
wondering  how  I  could  lay  hands  on  one  or 
two  of  those  papers.  You  must  know,  my 
dear  children,  stratagem  is  always  allowed 
and  understood  to  be  used  on  both  sides  in 
war.  It  is  as  much  a  part  of  the  whole  un- 
happy business  as  loading  guns  and  firing 
5i 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

them,  and  far  better  if  it  leads  to  peace  and 
an  end  of  cruel  feeling.  Now,  if  I  could  only- 
get  a  copy  or  two  of  those  papers,  do  you  see, 
the  key  to  the  enemy's  next  movements 
might  be  in  our  hands,  and  I  suddenly  struck 
a  bright  idea.  I  sent  a  man  to  replace  Billy 
Forbes  on  the  bridge,  and  presently  that 
lad  appeared  in  my  doorway.  He  saluted, 
and  I  motioned  him  to  come  inside.  Then, 
after  warning  him  of  the  need  of  secrecy 
and  caution,  I  told  him  my  dilemma.  Billy 
rubbed  his  head,  whistled  softly,  looked  up 
and  down  anxiously,  and  finally,  after  a  mo- 
ment's star-gazing,  'Lieutenant,'  says  he,  in 
his  slow,  Connecticut  voice,  'I've  hit  on  a 
way — if  you  don't  mind.' 

"'Go  ahead,  Billy,'  I  rejoined. 

"  'Well,  sir,  you  see  those  poor  devils  have 
scarcely  a  chew  or  a  smoke  of  'baccy  among 
them/ 

" ' How  do  you  know?' 

11 '  Johnny  on  the  other  side  made  signs,  sir, 
and  mate  and  I  weren't  slow  to  understand/ 

'"Well.     Go  on/ 

" '  Now,  if  I  could  sneak  over  a  bit  from 
52 


CAPTAIN   BILLY 

those  great  packages  in  the  Quartermaster's 
department,  and  make  him  know  what  we 
were  after,  sure  as  guns,  Lieutenant,  you'd 
have  the  papers.' 

"  'Billy,'  said  I,  'you  are  a  credit  to  your 
regiment,  to  say  nothing  of  your  Yankee 
mother.  Come  here  in  an  hour,  and  I'll  see 
you  have  the  tobacco.' 

"  Some  enterprising  dealer  in  the  North  had 
received  a  contract  for  that  lot  of  stuff,  and 
we  had  really,  for  the  time  being,  an  over- 
abundance, so  that  it  was  by  no  means  a 
difficult  matter  for  me  to  secure  two  half- 
pound  packets,  done  up  in  blue  paper,  and 
in  about  as  short  a  time  as  it  takes  to  tell  the 
story,  Billy  Forbes  had  it  tucked  away,  and 
went  whistling  back  to  his  post. 

"It  was  a  clear,  soft,  starlit  night.  I  sat 
up  attending  to  various  duties — listening  to 
the  fussy  complaints  and  talk  of  one  of  my 
colleagues  in  command,  who  had  it  on  the 
brain,  and  felt  we  were  disgraced  not  know- 
ing how  to  get  in  there.  Somehow,  I  relied 
on  my  friend  Billy  to  win  the  day  by  his  fair 
'exchange,'  and  he  didn't  fail  me. 
53 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

"Towards  morning  I  went  down  to  the 
bridge,  having  sent  a  relief  for  the  lad,  who 
came  back  simply  grinning. 

" '  Easy  as  could  be/  he  whispered.  '  Here 
you  are,  sir.' 

"And  from  the  depths  of  his  trousers  he 
produced  the  coveted  little  sheets. 

" ' Billy/  said  I,  'when  the  war  is  over  you 
are  likely  to  be  a  great  man.' 

"And  I  turned  in  to  read  the  news. 

"About  ten  o'clock  I  received  an  awful 
message,  in  answer  to  which  I  started  post' 
haste  for  the  guard -house,  meeting  my 
anxious  comrade  Captain  Hubert  on  the 
way. 

"'A  nice  mess  your  protege  is  in,  Lieu- 
tenant!' he  exclaimed.  'I've  had  to  put 
him  under  arrest,  and  he's  doomed,  sir, 
doomed.  Will  no  doubt  be  shot,  and  a  good 
warning  to  all  like  him.' 

"As  the  Captain — in  temporary  command 
— marched  on,  I  stood  rooted  to  the  ground. 
What  had  happened!  Well,  I  soon  found 
out.  Billy,  white  to  the  lips,  but  with  his 
head  well  up,  told  me  the  story.  His  com- 
54 


CAPTAIN  BILLY 

panion,  cherishing  some  old  grudge,  had 
watched  him  making  the  exchange — tobacco 
for  the  journals  —  and  had  made  haste  to 
report  him.  Billy  well  knew  the  penalty.  A 
court-martial  had  to  be  held  at  once. 

"Billy,  poor  lad,  for  violating  the  law  which 
forbids  absolutely  giving  aid  or  comfort  to 
the  enemy,  must  be  shot !  That  was  the  law, 
and  you  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  well- 
being  of  a  whole  nation,  especially  in  time 
of  war,  depends  upon  the  strict  discipline 
of  the  army  being  maintained.  There  were 
important  reasons  why  I  could  not  at  that 
moment  say  I  had,  through  Billy,  procured 
the  papers,  and  relieve  him  of  the  extreme 
penalty.  Yet  something  must  be  done,  and 
I  must  try  and  think  it  out,  even  though  in 
discharging  my  duty  I  must  sit  in  the  court- 
martial  which  would  undoubtedly  condemn 
him. 

"  '  Billy,'  said  I,  with  my  hand  on  the  lad's 
shoulder,  and  looking  at  his  white  and 
haggard  young  face,  'I'll  do  my  best.  Un- 
less compelled  to,  don't  mention  the  papers. 
That  can't  be  known  just  yet.' 
55 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

"  '  God  bless  you,  sir,'  said  Billy,  with  tears 
rolling  down  his  cheeks.  '  You  see,  mother 'd 
be  proud  if  I  had  to  die  in  battle;  but  shot 
down,  Lieutenant,  for  treason — ' 

"Well,  I  can  tell  you,  I  couldn't  stand  it 
much  longer,  and  I  went  dismally  enough  to 
the  court-martiaL  You  needn't  imagine  it 
was  in  any  fine  court-room.  Dignified  and 
often  tragic  as  were  the  cases,  the  court  sat  in 
an  old  tool-shed;  planks  on  barrels  formed 
the  tables,  and  for  seats  we  had  empty 
provision  boxes  turned  upside  down.  But 
there  was  about  it  the  solemnity  of  such  an 
occasion — of  a  death  charge,  perhaps,  and 
all  the  grave  formality  of  the  promptest  law 
known.  When  in  the  paltry  place  the  court- 
martial  began  I  knew  that  my  colleague, 
Captain  Hubert,  was  in  a  great  state  of  excite- 
ment, and  determined,  if  possible,  to  'put 
down'  such  recklessness  as  had  been  Billy 
Forbes 's.  We  had  some  minor  cases  first 
quickly  disposed  of,  and  then  my  poor  fellow 
was  led  up. 

"Mean  as  were  the  surroundings,  I  assure 
you  it  made  a  tragic  scene.  And  there  the 
56 


CAPTAIN  BILLY 

Connecticut  lad  stood — thinking  of  the  moth- 
er who  could  never  bear  to  hear  of  shame 
upon  her  soldier  boy,  nor  care  to  hear  after 
where  they  had  made  his  grave. 

'  'The  Captain  began  the  formal  questioning ; 
and  Billy,  in  a  clear,  low  voice,  answered. 
Asked  if  he  knew  what  it  meant  to  converse 
with  the  enemy,  he  said: 
Yes,  sir.' 
' '  Had  he  reversed  his  gun?* 
"Yes,  sir/ 

Had  he  handed  the  enemy  a  package?' 
Yes,  sir.' 

What  did  it  contain?' 
Tobacco,  sir.' 
'''  Billy  whitened  again,  but  he  did  not  lie; 
and  I  seemed  to  read  in  the  depths  of  his  blue 
eyes  a  thought  of   *  mother/    There  was  a 
brief  pause,  and  then  I  knew  my  moment  had 
come.     From  my  coat-pocket  I  produced  a 
packet  of  the  tobacco  sent  by  our  Northern 
contractor. 
"'Forbes.' 
"'Yes,  sir„' 

44 '  Was  the  tobacco  you  gave  the  enemy 
57 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

like  this?'  I  spoke,  breaking  a  deathlike 
stillness. 

"  Billy's  lips  quivered.  His  look  was  like 
Caesar's  ' Et  tu,  Brute!1  But  he  did  not 
flinch.  Honest  eye  and  proudly  uplifted 
head  were  there  when  he  answered,  'Yes, 
sir.' 

"  'Captain  Hubert,'  I  observed,  turning  to 
my  superior,  '  there  is  a  cart-load  of  the  stuff 
still  unused,  for  the  reason  that  this  tobacco 
was  condemned  as  unfit,  owing  to  some 
poisonous  substance  in  the  blue  paper 
wrappers.  I  need  scarcely  point  out  to  you,' 
I  continued,  'that  sentence  of  death  could 
only  be  passed  on  Forbes  for  "  carrying  aid  or 
comfort  to  the  enemy."  Now,  then,  Captain, 
if  you  will  kindly  fill  your  pipe  from  this 
package,  I  feel  sure  you  will  decide  whether 
Forbes  can  be  condemned  to  death  for 
providing  the  Johnnies  with  comfort  from  old 
Briggs's  consignment.' 

' '  The  tension  was  too  great  for  even  a  smile, 

and  Captain  Hubert's  face  flushed  scarlet. 

He  put  out  his  hand,  then  drew  it  back. 

'This  being  the  case,'  said  he,  in  a  stifled 

58 


CAPTAIN  BILLY 

voice  and  rising  to  his  feet,  'we — we — can 
consider  the  case  dismissed!' 

"  I  met  Billy  a  moment  or  two  later,  stand- 
ing like  a  statue  near  my  quarters.  He 
looked  at  me  piteously ;  but  when  I  held  out 
my  hand,  did  not  at  once  take  it. 

"  'Lieutenant,'  said  he,  with  the  queer 
smile  in  his  honest  eyes  I  somehow  felt  he'd 
learned  from  his  mother,  'I — I — God  bless 
you,  sir ;  but  did  you  send  me  with  poison  to 
those  poor  chaps  ?'  His  voice  shook,  but  he 
held  up  his  head  proudly.  'Killing  them 
in  battle,  sir,  would  be  fair  and  square — ' 

"'Billy,'  said  I,  'give  me  your  hand,  and 
you'll  get  your  shoulder-straps  before  the 
week  is  out!  No,  my  boy!  I  picked  out 
papers  that  hadn't  a  speck  of  white  stain  on 
them.  No,  you're  not  a  murderer,  my  poor 
Billy ;  and  go  to  your  tent  and  write  to  your 
mother,  for  we're  near  a  battle  harder  than 
the  one  you  and  I  fought  this  morning, 
thanks  to  the  papers  from  the  enemy.'  " 

"Oh,  General!"  exclaimed  Molly,  "and 
what  happened  then?" 

"Why,  my  child,  Billy  went  home  on  a 
59 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF   THE  CIVIL  WAR 

furlough  six  months  later  Captain  Forbes,  if 
you  please,  and  at  present  he  owns  a  fine 
country  grocery,  from  which  the  apples 
you're  eating  this  minute  have  just  come,  as 
they  do  every  year  regularly,  and  not  once 
but  he  encloses  a  big  packet  of  tobacco 
marked,  'Not  dangerous,  General,  even  to  the 
enemy!' " 


THE    BLOCKADE-RUNNER 
A  Dangerous  Prize 

10W,  Lieutenant,  the  yarn,"  said 
I,  as  I  settled  myself  comfortably. 
A  heavy  sea  was  running ;  night 
SttSVtf@had  fallen;  we  were  off  watch,  and 
snugly  stowed  between  decks,  with  our  legs 
under  the  gun-room  table,  and — jollier  still — 
Lieutenant  Bracetaut  had  promised  a  yarn. 
He  looked  musingly  at  the  oscillating  lantern 
above  our  heads,  and  then  made  a  beginning: 
"It  was  not  in  these  days  of  iron  pots, 
cheese-boxes,  and  steam-engines,  you  must 
know,"  said  he;  "but  on  the  dear  old  frigate 
Florida — requiescat  in  pace! — without  her 
mate  before  a  stiff  breeze,  and  with  more 
rats  in  her  hold  than  in  a  North  Sea  whaler. 
We  were  the  flag-ship  of  the  African  squad- 
61 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF   THE  CIVIL  WAR 

ron.  Prize-money  was  scarce,  and  the  days 
frightfully  hot ;  when  just  as  the  day  dropped 
at  the  close  of  September,  we  were  overjoyed 
to  hear  tidings  of — " 

"  All  hands  on  deck  if  you  want  a  share  in 
this  prize!"  bawled  the  boatswain  down  the 
companion  way ;  and  we  ungraciously  tum- 
bled up,  snapping  Bracetaut's  yarn  without 
compunction. 

"Where  is  she?" 

"What  is  she?" 

"I  don't  see  her." 

"There  she  is  to  the  sou'west,"  said  the 
cockswain,  pointing  with  his  spy -glass. 

"By  Jove,  a  steamer,  too!"  cried  Brace- 
taut,  delightedly. 

"The  Great  Eastern,  stuffed  with  cotton 
to  her  scuppers,"  suggested  Jerry  Bloom, 
commencing  a  hornpipe;  and  every  one  else 
had  some  guess  as  to  the  character  of  the 
strange  craft. 

"Bracetaut  is  right,"  said  the  Captain  of 
the  Petrel y  who  had  been  studying  her  in- 
tently with  his  telescope;  "she's  a  steamer, 
and  a  big  *un.  But  she's  not  coming  out; 
62 


THE  BLOCKADE-RUNNER 

she's  making  for  the  Lights  with  her  best 
foot  foremost." 

We  were  glad  to  hear  it;  for  even  cotton 
could  be  foregone  for  the  sake  of  English 
rifles,  hospital  stores,  and  army  stuffs.  We 
cracked  on  more  steam,  unfurled  the  top- 
gallants, and  made  all  preparations  for  a 
short  chase.  We  had  been  to  Philadelphia 
for  coal,  and  were  still  fifty  knots  from  our 
old  blockading  station  on  the  North  Carolina 
coast,  to  which  we  were  returning.  There 
was  a  heavy  sea  from  the  tempest  of  the  day 
before;  but  the  sky  was  cloudless  and  the 
moon  unusually  bright,  and  our  craft  was  the 
swiftest  in  the  squadron;  so  that,  with  so 
much  sea-room,  we  had  little  doubt  of  over- 
hauling the  stranger  before  she  could  reach 
the  protecting  guns  of  Fort  Macon.  A  mere 
speck  at  first,  the  object  of  our  attention 
grew  rapidly  bigger  as  we  sped  on  under  the 
extra  head  of  steam  and  the  straining  top- 
gallants. She  enlarged  against  the  sky  until 
she  grew  as  big  as  a  whale,  and  in  a  few 
moments  we  distinguished  the  column  of 
black  smoke  which  her  low  chimneys  trailed 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

against  the  sky ;  but  she  seemed  to  have  little 
canvas  stretched.  Indeed,  the  gale  was  yet 
so  strong  that  any  extensive  spread  of  sail 
was  imprudent. 

"See  what  you  make  of  her,  Bracetaut," 
said  the  Captain,  handing  his  telescope  to 
the  weather-worn  seaman.  "  I  would  be  sure 
that  she's  none  of  our  own." 

"Clyde -built  all  over,"  mused  the  Lieu- 
tenant, with  his  eye  to  the  tube.  "No  one 
but  a  Cockney  could  have  planted  her  masts ; 
and  her  jib  has  the  Bristol  cut.  She  sees 
you  and  is  doing  her  best.  I  doubt  if  you 
catch  her." 

"We'll  see  about  that,"  retorted  the 
skipper.  "Let  out  the  studdin'  sails!  trim 
the  jib!"  he  roared  through  his  trumpet. 
"I'll  spread  every  rag  if  we  scrape  the  sky! 
More  head  if  possible,  Jones,"  he  added;  and 
the  engineer  went  below  to  see  what  could 
be  done. 

The  gale  was  strong,  and  her  head  of  steam 

was  already  great;  but  we  soon  seemed  to 

leap  from  crest  to  crest  under  the  stimulus  of 

replenished  fires,  and  the  masts  fairly  bowed 

64 


THE  BLOCKADE-RUNNER 

beneath  their  press  of  canvas.  Everybody 
was  agog  with  excitement,  and  half  the  sea- 
men were  in  the  rigging  gazing  ahead  and 
speculating  as  to  the  vessel  and  her  con- 
tents. 

"Try  her  with  the  big  bow-chaser,  Cap- 
tain," suggested  the  Lieutenant;  and  the  or- 
der was  immediately  given. 

Boom!  went  the  huge  piece,  as  we  quivered 
on  the  summit  of  a  lofty  wave,  and  the  rush- 
ing bolt  flashed  a  phosphorescent  light  from 
a  dozen  crests  ere  its  course  was  lost  in  the 
distance. 

"No,  go!  it's  a  good  three  miles,"  growled 
Captain  Butler,  measuring  the  interval  once 
more  with  his  glass. 

"Let  me  try,"  said  Bracetaut,  quietly 
taking  his  stand  behind  the  gun,  which  was 
now  being  charged  anew,  and  carefully  ad- 
justing the  screws. 

Again  the  sullen  thunder  spouted  from  the 
port,  and  we  marked  the  ball  by  its  path  of 
fire. 

"Gone  again,"  grumbled  the  skipper. 
"We're  paving  the  floor  of  the  sea  with — 
65 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

Ha!"  For  an  instant  the  messenger  had 
vanished  like  its  predecessor ;  then,  far  away 
to  the  south,  there  sprang  a  fountain  of 
spray — its  last  dip  in  the  brine — and  the 
mizzen-mast  of  the  stranger  snapped  short 
off  at  the  cross-trees,  and  dragged  a  cloud 
of  useless  canvas  down  her  shrouds. 

"Brave  shot!"  exclaimed  the  Captain. 
"Try  again,  Lieutenant." 

"'Try,  try  again/"  sang  that  limb  of  a 
middy,  Jerry  Bloom,  renewing  his  hornpipe. 

But  the  rigging  of  the  stranger  suddenly 
grew  black  with  men,  the  broken  spars  were 
cleared  away  as  by  magic,  another  sail  puffed 
out  broadly  from  her  foretop  to  make  up  for 
the  vanished  mizzen-mast,  and  even  as  we 
gazed  a  strain  of  band-music  came  floating 
over  the  sea,  with  the  "  Bonny  blue  flag"  for 
its  burden. 

"She's  telling  her  name,"  said  Bracetaut, 
laughing. 

"Yes,  but  she's  going  to  kick  us,"  cried 

Jerry,  as  a  long  tongue  of  flame  leaped  from 

the  stranger's  stern;  and  the  rolling  thunder 

of  her  gun  came  to  us  almost  simultaneously 

66 


THE  BLOCKADE-RUNNER 

with  the  ball,  which  whistled  through  our 
tops,  letting  down  a  heavy  splinter  on  the 
cockswain's  head,  who  dropped  like  a  dead 
man,  but  was  only  stunned. 

It  was  evident  that  the  stranger  was 
plucky,  and  not  to  be  taken  alive.  We  still 
worked  on  her  with  our  bow-gun,  seldom 
doing  much  damage,  but  with  the  best  of 
intentions;  while  she  kicked  off  the  point 
of  our  bowsprit  with  provoking  ease,  and 
burned  an  ugly  hole  through  our  maintop- 
sail. 

"By  Jingo!  she's  growing  saucy,"  said 
Captain  Butler.  "Now  let  me  have  a  shy;" 
and  grasping  the  piece  with  a  practised  hand, 
he  swiftly  adjusted  it. 

"Huzza!  I  told  you  so!  Clean  through 
her  poop!" 

Sure  enough,  the  shot  struck  her  after- 
bulwarks,  and  must  have  played  hob  with 
the  chandeliers  in  the  cabin. 

"Just  wait  till  we  can  give  her  a  broad- 
side," added  the  winger  of  the  bolt,  rubbing 
his  hands  good-humoredly. 

"We  mustn't  wait  too  long,  then,"  said 
67 


STRANGE   STORIES   OF   THE  CIVIL  WAR 

the  cool  Lieutenant,  "for  I  see  the  Lookout 
lights.  In  half  an  hour  we  shall  be  under 
the  guns  of  Fort  Macon." 

He  pointed  over  the  side  as  he  spoke,  far 
down  the  western  verge,  to  a  faint,  lurid 
glimmering  scarcely  brighter  than  the  many 
stars  that  surrounded  it,  but  with  the  hazy 
lustre  which  there  was  no  mistaking. 

"The  rebels  are  reported  to  have  destroyed 
the  lanterns,"  said  I,  suggestively. 

"Don't  you  believe  it,  my  boy,"  replied 
the  old  sailor.  "They  know  when  to  douse 
them  and  when  to  light  a  British  skipper  to 
their  nest." 

The  chase  had  now  lasted  between  two 
and  three  hours,  and  the  fort  at  Cape  Fear 
could  not  be  more  than  twelve  miles  to  our 
lee .  We  were  still  two  miles  from  the  stranger , 
and  the  chances  were  momently  lessening  of 
overhauling  her  in  time,  unless  we  should 
succeed  in  materially  disabling  her,  while  our 
own  risk  of  becoming  crippled  from  her  well- 
directed  stern-shots  was  very  great.  If  the 
wind  had  been  light  the  shots  in  our  rigging 
would  have  checked  our  speed  but  slightly; 
68 


THE  BLOCKADE-RONNER 

but  the  bracing  gale  that  had  us  in  its  teeth 
lent  us  half  our  speed,  and  an  unlucky  shot 
in  our  cross-trees  might  be  irretrievable. 

"There!  there!  we  have  it  now!  Was 
there  ever  such  luck?"  cried  the  Captain, 
despondently.  And  our  main-sail  came  down 
with  a  rush  as  he  spoke,  every  one  flying  from 
the  splinters  of  the  mast,  which  was  severed 
like  a  pipe-stem. 

We  all  looked  glum  enough  at  this  mishap, 
and  began  to  consider  the  prize  as  a  might- 
have-been.  But  the  Captain  determined 
on  a  last  effort,  and  ordered  a  broadside 
volley,  though  the  distance,  a  mile  and  a  half 
at  least,  made  success  extremely  doubtful. 
The  ship  rounded  to  handsomely.  The  ports 
were  open,  twenty  cannon  were  already  load- 
ed and  manned,  and,  at  the  given  signal,  a 
long  sheet  of  flame  leaped  from  the  side,  and 
the  noble  frigate  roared  and  quivered  to  her 
keelson.  Another  instant  and  a  wild  huzza 
swelled  upward  from  our  crowded  deck;  for 
the  broadside  was  a  success.  The  entire  rig- 
ging of  the  stranger  seemed  in  ruins ;  her  bow- 
sprit was  trailing  in  the  sea;  and  we  could 
69 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

distinguish  another  ugly  smash  in  her  stern, 
which  must  have  come  very  near  destroying 
her  precious  flukes.  Of  course  the  prospect 
was  now  far  better  than  before,  but  still  by 
no  means  certain,  as  it  was  questionable 
whether  we  were  not  almost  equally  disabled 
in  the  rigging,  and  the  rapidity  with  which 
the  damaged  tops  of  the  stranger  were  mend- 
ed and  cleared  away  seemed  miraculous, 
though  she  now  gave  over  firing,  apparently 
bent  on  safety  only  by  sharp  sailing. 

New  spars  were  already  up  on  our  own 
main-mast,  and,  with  a  clew  or  two  on  the 
mizzen-shrouds,  and  the  use  of  the  after- 
braces,  with  double  duty  on  the  mizzen-top- 
gallant  spars,  our  main-sail  was  again  aloft, 
with  cheering  indications  that  we  were  gain- 
ing fast.  In  fifteen  minutes  we  had  so 
sensibly  diminished  the  interval  between  us 
and  our  prey  that  we  ceased  firing.  But 
we  were  over-confident.  The  lanterns  of 
Cape  Lookout  were  now  left  far  away  on 
our  starboard  quarter,  and  every  forward 
furlong  we  made  was  so  much  nearer  to 
the  formidable  fort.  Just  then  a  faint  flash, 
70 


THE   BLOCKADE-RUNNER 

like  the  horizon  glimmer  of  summer  light- 
ning, shone  above  the  waters  far  beyond 
the  ship  we  were  pursuing,  and  a  hardly- 
heard  but  ominous  boom  told  us  that  the 
old  sea-dragon,  Fort  Macon,  was  not  sleep- 
ing in  the  moonlight.  We  now  renewed  our 
pelting  of  the  stranger  with  further  damage  to 
her  tops.  Whereupon  she  veered  for  Shackle- 
ford  Shoals,  with  the  evident  intention  of 
beaching  herself  if  unable  to  get  under  the 
fort.  Another  quarter  of  an  hour  and  we 
were  within  long  range  of  the  heavy  coast- 
guns  of  the  fortress,  which  seemed  to  under- 
stand the  state  of  the  case  perfectly,  for  shells 
began  to  drop  around  us  briskly.  And  now 
the  great  breakers  of  the  sandy  coast  were 
plainly  discernible  on  the  starboard,  tossing 
their  white  plumes  high  above  the  beach. 
Here  and  there  a  bluff  rose  from  the  mono- 
tone of  sand;  and  the  Devil's  Skillet — a  dan- 
gerous reef — was  boiling  white  a  little  lower 
down. 

Shackleford  Shoals  is  a  low,  narrow  sand- 
bank,  about   twenty   miles   in  length.     Its 
lower  extremity  comes  within  three  miles,  at 
7i 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

a  rough  guess,  of  the  Borden  Banks,  or 
Shoals,  on  the  easternmost  point  of  which 
the  fort  is  situated.  The  bank  is  everywhere 
treacherous,  but  especially  at  this  southern 
point,  where  the  danger  of  the  shoals  is 
hidden  by  apparently  deep  water.  And 
now  as  we  neared  our  expected  prey,  she 
made  a  bold  push  for  this  inlet;  but  as  we 
dashed  in  between  her  and  the  fort,  regard- 
less of  the  latter 's  continuous  firing,  she  al- 
tered her  course,  and  steered  head-on  for 
the  fatal  breakers. 

"She's  bent  on  suicide!"  said  Jerry,  who 
then  ran  below  for  his  pistols,  as  the  Captain 
ordered  the  boats  to  be  manned. 

"Has  she  struck?" 

"No — yes — there  she  goes!" 

Sure  enough,  she  had  grounded  and  slightly 
heeled  over,  but  in  such  deep  water  that  the 
soft  sand  of  the  shoals  would  not  hold  her 
long.  Two  of  our  boats  were  manned,  with 
our  beloved  Lieutenant  as  commander  of  the 
expedition,  and  I  was  in  his  boat.  We  push- 
ed off  with  some  difficulty,  on  account  of  the 
heavy  sea.  As  we  did  so  we  saw  the  boats 
72 


THE  BLOCKADE-RUNNER 

of  the  blockade  -  runner  also  lowered,  and 
pulling  inside  for  the  inlet,  The  rats  were 
leaving  the  crib. 

"  You  can  get  her  off  if  you  try,  Bracetaut. 
Throw  over  everything  to  lighten  her/'  was 
the  parting  injunction  of  Captain  Butler, 
and  as  we  pulled  away  he  hauled  his  ship  out 
of  range  of  the  fort.  It  was  rather  uncom- 
fortable the  way  the  shells  ducked  and  plung- 
ed around  us,  or  burst  above  our  heads,  but 
we  pulled  away  for  the  prize.  Our  boat 
was  the  last  to  reach  the  ship — a  first-class 
iron  propeller,  of  great  tonnage,  and  clipper- 
built.  As  the  crew  of  the  advanced  boat 
climbed  up  her  sides  several  crashes  made  us 
aware  that  the  fort  was  turning  her  guns 
against  the  vessel,  to  deprive  us  of  the 
plunder. 

"And  hot -shot  at  that.  Listen!"  said 
Bracetaut  to  me;  when  the  fizzing  sound  of 
the  plunging  hot -shot  was  plainly  distin- 
guishable. 

Our  boat  was  within  a  rod  of  the  prize 
when  we  perceived  the  men  who  had  already 
boarded  her  jumping  hastily  over  the  bul- 
73 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF   THE  CIVIL  WAR 

warks,  dropping  into  their  boat,  and  pushing 
off,  as  if  something  unusual  was  to  pay.  One 
had  been  left  behind.  It  was  the  little 
middy,  Jerry  Bloom,  who  now  appeared  un- 
concernedly leaning  over  the  side  and  coolly 
awaiting  the  Lieutenant's  orders. 

"What's  her  cargo ?"  bellowed  Bracetaut 
through  his  trumpet. 

"  Powder  1"  sang  back  the  shrill  tones  of 
the  New  World  Casablanca,  and  siz!  siz! 
went  the  plunging  red-hot  shot;  and  crash  I 
crash!  they  went  against  the  floating  maga- 
zine with  frightful  precision. 

"Jump  for  your  life!"  roared  the  Lieuten- 
ant to  Jerry.  "Back-water,  you  lubbers! 
back,  for  your  lives!" 

We  saw  the  midshipman  join  his  palms 
over  his  head  and  leap  from  the  gunwale  of 
the  fated  ship.  Scarcely  had  his  slender  fig- 
ure cut  the  brine  before  a  number  of  sharp 
reports  were  heard — then  a  long,  deep,  vol- 
canic rumbling,  that  swelled  into  a  terrific 
thunder,  deafened  our  ears;  a  dozen  columns 
of  blood -red  flame  shot  up  to  the  stars;  and 
we  saw  the  deck  and  majestic  spars  of  the 
74 


THE   BLOCKADE-RUNNER 

doomed  blockade-runner  spring  aloft  in  frag- 
ments! A  huge  black  mass  descended  with 
a  fearful  splash  a  yard  from  our  bows — the 
long  stern-chaser  going  to  the  bottom — the 
sides  of  the  powder-ship  yawned  wide  open 
an  instant,  filled  with  fire,  then  disappeared, 
the  flames  dying  out.  The  sea  was  ploughed 
around  us  by  the  falling  fragments  of  deck 
and  spar,  and  the  glorious  steamer  was  no 
more! 


VI 

TWO    DAYS    WITH   MOSBY 

An   Adventure  with  Guerillas 

I 

||ftftW|gWAS  up  at  reveille.  Orders  to 
§  inspect  the  camp  of  dismounted 
cavalry  near  Harper's  Ferry  had 
been  in  my  pocket  two  days, 
while  I  awaited  an  escort  through  the  fifty 
miles  of  guerilla-infested  country  which  lay 
between  me  and  that  distant  post.  This  was 
the  day  for  the  regular  train,  and  a  thousand 
wagons  were  expected  to  leave  Sheridan's 
headquarters,  on  Cedar  Creek,  at  daylight, 
with  a  brigade  of  infantry  as  guard,  and  a 
troop  of  cavalry  as  outriders. 

An  hour's  ride  of  eight  miles  along  a 
picketed  line  across  the  valley  brought  me 
to  the  famous  "Valley  Pike,"  and  near  the 

76 


TWO   DAYS  WITH   MOSBY 

headquarters  of  the  army.  Torbert  was  there, 
and  I  awaited  his  detailed  instructions.  Un- 
avoidable delay  ensued.  Despatches  were 
to  be  sent,  and  they  were  not  yet  ready. 
An  hour  passed,  and,  meantime  the  indus- 
trious wagon-train  was  lightly  and  rapidly 
rolling  away  down  the  pike.  The  last  wagon 
passed  out  of  sight,  and  the  rear -guard 
closed  up  behind  it  before  I  was  ready  to 
start.  No  other  train  was  to  go  for  four 
days.  I  must  overtake  this  one  or  give  up 
my  journey.  At  length,  accompanied  by  a 
single  orderly,  and  my  colored  servant,  George 
Washington,  a  contraband,  commonly  called 
"Wash,"  I  started  in  pursuit  of  the  train. 

As  I  had  nearly  passed  Newtown  I  overtook 
a  small  party  apparently  from  the  rear-guard 
of  the  train,  who  were  lighting  their  pipes  and 
buying  cakes  and  apples  at  a  small  grocery 
on  the  right  of  the  pike.  They  seemed  to  be 
in  charge  of  a  non-commissioned  officer. 

44  Good-morning,  Sergeant.  You  had  bet- 
ter close  up  at  once.  The  train  is  getting 
well  ahead,  and  this  is  the  favorite  beat  of 
Mosby." 

77 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF   THE  CIVIL  WAR 

"  All  right,  sir,"  he  replied  with  a  smile,  and 
nodding  to  his  men,  they  mounted  at  once 
and  closed  in  behind  me,  while  quite  to  my 
surprise  I  noticed  in  front  of  me  three  more 
of  the  party  whom  I  had  not  before  seen. 

An  instinct  of  danger  seized  me.  I  saw 
nothing  to  justify  it,  but  I  felt  a  presence  of 
evil  which  I  could  not  shake  off.  The  men 
were  in  Union  blue  complete,  and  wore 
on  their  caps  the  well-known  Greek  cross 
which  distinguishes  the  gallant  Sixth  Corps. 
They  were  young,  intelligent,  cleanly,  and 
good-looking  soldiers,  armed  with  revolvers 
and  Spencer's  repeating  carbine.  I  noticed 
the  absence  of  sabres,  but  the  presence  of 
the  Spencer,  which  was  a  comparatively 
new  arm  in  our  service,  reassured  me,  and  I 
thought  it  impossible  that  the  enemy  could 
as  yet  be  possessed  of  them. 

We  galloped  on  merrily,  and  just  as  I  was 
ready  to  laugh  at  my  own  fears,  "Wash," 
who  had  been  riding  behind  me  and  had 
heard  some  remark  made  by  the  soldiers, 
brushed  up  to  my  side,  and  whispered 
through  his  teeth,  chattering  with  fear: 
78 


TWO  DAYS  WITH   MOSBY 

"  Massa,  Secesh,  sure !    Run  like  de  debbel !" 

I  turned  to  look  back  at  these  words,  and 
saw  six  carbines  levelled  at  me  at  twenty- 
paces  distant,  and  the  Sergeant,  who  had 
watched  every  motion  of  the  negro,  came 
riding  towards  me  with  revolver  drawn  and 
the  sharp  command,  "Halt!     Surrender !" 

We  had  reached  a  low  place  where  the 
Opequan  Creek  crosses  the  pike,  a  mile  from 
Newtown.  The  train  was  not  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  ahead,  but  out  of  sight  for  the  moment 
over  the  west  ridge. 

High  stone-walls  lined  the  pike  on  either 
side,  and  a  narrow  bridge  across  the  stream 
was  in  front  of  me  and  already  occupied  by 
the  three  rascals  who  had  acted  as  advance- 
guard,  who  now  coolly  turned  round  and 
raised  their  carbines. 

I  remembered  the  military  maxim,  a 
mounted  man  should  never  surrender  until 
his  horse  is  disabled.  I  hesitated  an  in- 
stant considering  what  I  should  do,  and  quite 
in  doubt  whether  I  was  myself  or  some  other 
fellow  whom  I  had  read  of  as  captured  and 
hung  by  guerillas;  but  at  the  repetition  of 

6  79 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

the  sharp  command,  aided  by  the  revolver 
thrust  into  my  face,  I  concluded  I  was  un- 
doubtedly the  other  fellow  and  surrendered 
accordingly. 

My  sword  and  revolver  were  taken  at  once 
by  the  Sergeant,  who  proved  to  be  a  rebel 
lieutenant  in  disguise,  and  who  remarked, 
laughing  as  he  took  them: 

"We  closed  up,  Captain,  as  you  directed; 
as  this  is  a  favorite  beat  of  Mosby's,  I  hope 
our  drill  was  satisfactory." 

"  All  right,  Sergeant.  Every  dog  has  his 
day,  and  yours  happens  to  come  now.  Pos- 
sibly my  turn  may  come  to-morrow." 

"  Your  turn  to  be  hung,"  he  replied. 

ii 

It  was  not  long  before  I  was  ushered  into 
the  presence  of  John  S.  Mosby,  Lieutenant- 
Colonel,  C.  S.  A. 

He  stood  a  little  apart  from  his  men,  by 
the  side  of  a  splendid  gray  horse,  with  his 
right  hand  grasping  the  bridle-rein  and  rest- 
ing on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle — a  slight, 
80 


TWO  DAYS  WITH   MOSBY 

medium-sized  man,  sharp  of  feature,  quick 
of  sight,  lithe  of  limb,  with  a  bronzed  face 
of  the  color  and  tension  of  whip -cord.  His 
hair,  beard,  and  mustache  were  light  brown 
in  color.  His  large,  well-shaped  head  showed 
a  high  forehead,  deep-set  gray  eyes,  a  straight 
Grecian  nose,  a  firm  mouth,  and  large  ears. 
His  whole  expression  told  of  energy,  hard 
service,  and — love  of  whiskey.  He  wore  top- 
boots,  and  a  civilian's  overcoat,  black,  lined 
with  red,  and  beneath  it  the  complete  gray 
uniform  of  a  Confederate  Lieutenant-Colonel, 
with  its  two  stars  on  the  side  of  the  standing 
collar,  and  the  whole  surmounted  by  the  in- 
evitable slouched  hat  of  the  whole  Southern 
race.  His  men  were  about  half  in  blue  and 
half  in  butternut. 

Mosby,  after  taking  my  horse  and  quietly 
examining  my  papers,  presently  looked  up 
with  a  peculiar  gleam  of  satisfaction  on  his 
face. 

"Ah,  Captain  B !     Inspector-General 

of 's  Cavalry!     Good-morning,  Captain! 

Glad  to  see  you,  sir!    Indeed,  there  is  but  one 

I  would  prefer  to  see  this  morning  to  your- 

81 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

self,  and  that  is  your  commander.  Were 
you  present,  sir,  the  other  day  at  the  hang- 
ing of  eight  of  my  men  as  guerillas  at  Front 
Royal?" 

I  answered  him  firmly,  "I  was  present, 
sir;  and,  like  you,  have  only  to  regret  that  it 
was  not  the  commander  instead  of  his  un- 
fortunate men." 

This  answer  seemed  to  please  Mosby,  for 
he  apparently  expected  a  denial.  He  as- 
sumed a  grim  smile,  and  directed  Lieutenant 
Whiting  to  search  me. 

My  gold  hunting-watch  and  chain,  several 
rings,  a  set  of  shirt-studs  and  sleeve-buttons, 
a  Masonic  pin,  some  coins,  and  about  three 
hundred  dollars  in  greenbacks,  with  some 
letters  and  pictures  of  the  dear  ones  at  home, 
and  a  small  pocket  Bible,  were  taken.  My 
cavalry-boots,  worth  about  fifteen  dollars, 
were  apprised  at  six  hundred  and  fifty  in 
Confederate  money;  my  watch  at  three 
thousand  dollars,  and  the  other  articles  in 
about  the  same  proportion,  including  my 
poor  servant  "Wash,"  who  was  put  in  and 
raffled  for  at  two  thousand  dollars,  so  that 
82 


TWO  DAYS  WITH  MOSBY 

my  entire  outfit  made  quite  a  respectable 
prize. 

"  Wash  "  was  very  indignant  that  he  should 
be  thought  worth  only  two  thousand  dollars, 
Confederate  money,  and  informed  them  that 
he  considered  himself  unappreciated,  and 
that,  among  other  accomplishments,  he 
could  make  the  best  milk-punch  of  any  man 
in  the  Confederacy. 

When  all  this  was  concluded,  Mosby  took 
me  a  little  one  side  and  returned  to  me  the 
pocket  Bible,  the  letters  and  pictures,  and 
the  Masonic  pin,  saying  quietly  as  he  did  so, 
alluding  to  the  latter  with  a  significant  sign: 

"You  may  as  well  keep  this.  It  may  be 
of  use  to  you  somewhere." 

I  thanked  him  warmly  for  his  kindness  as 
I  took  his  offered  hand,  and  really  began  to 
think  Mosby  almost  a  gentleman  and  a 
soldier,  although  he  had  just  robbed  me  in 
the  most  approved  manner  of  modern  high- 
waymen. 

Immediate  preparations  were  made  for  the 
long  road  to  Richmond  and  Libby  Prison. 
A  guard  of  fifteen  men,  in  command  of 
83 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

Lieutenant  Whiting,  was  detailed  as  our 
escort,  and,  accompanied  by  Mosby  himself, 
we  started  directly  across  the  country,  re- 
gardless of  roads,  in  an  easterly  direction 
towards  the  Shenandoah  and  the  Blue  Ridge. 

We  were  now  in  company  of  nine  more  of 
our  men,  who  had  been  taken  at  different 
times,  making  eleven  of  our  party  in  all, 
besides  the  indignant  contraband  "Wash," 
whom  it  was  thought  prudent  also  to  send 
to  the  rear  for  safe-keeping. 

I  had  determined  to  escape  if  even  half  an 
opportunity  should  present  itself,  and  the 
boys  were  quick  in  understanding  my  pur- 
pose, and  intimating  their  readiness  to  risk 
their  lives  in  the  attempt.  One  of  them  in 
particular,  George  W.  M'Cauley,  commonly 
known  as  Mack,  and  another  one  named 
Brown,  afterwards  proved  themselves  heroes. 

At  Howettsville  on  the  Shenandoah,  nine 
miles  below  Front  Royal,  we  bivouacked  for 
the  night  in  an  old  school-house. 

Our  party  of  eleven  were  assigned  to  one 
side  of  the  lower  floor  of  the  school-house, 
where  we  lay  down  side  by  side  with  our 
84 


TWO  DAYS  WITH    MOSBY 

heads  to  the  wall  and  our  feet  nearly  meeting 
the  feet  of  the  guard,  who  lay  in  the  same 
manner  opposite  us,  with  their  heads  to  the 
other  wall,  except  three,  who  formed  a  relief 
guard  for  the  sentry's  post  at  the  door. 

Above  the  head  of  the  guard  along  the  wall 
ran  a  low  desk,  on  which  each  man  of  them 
placed  his  carbine  and  revolver  before  dis- 
posing himself  for  sleep. 

A  fire  before  the  door  dimly  lighted  the 
room;  and  the  scene  as  the  men  dropped 
gradually  to  sleep  has  stamped  itself  upon 
my  memory  like  a  picture  of  war  painted  by 
Rembrandt. 

I  had  taken  care  to  place  myself  between 
M'Cauley  and  Brown,  and  the  moment  the 
rebels  began  to  snore  and  the  sentry  to  nod 
over  his  pipe,  we  were  in  earnest  and  deep 
conversation. 

M'Cauley  proposed  to  warn  the  others  and 
make  a  simultaneous  rush  for  the  carbines, 
and  take  our  chances  of  stampeding  the 
guard  and  escaping.  But  on  passing  the 
word  in  a  whisper  along  our  line,  only  three 
men  were  found  willing  to  join  us.  As  the 
85 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

odds  were  so  largely  against  us,  it  was  in  vain 
to  urge  the  subject. 

The  march  began  at  an  early  hour  the  next 
morning,  and  the  route  ran  directly  up  the 
Blue  Ridge.  We  had  emerged  from  the 
forest  and  ascended  about  one-third  of  the 
height  of  the  mountain,  when  the  full  valley 
became  visible,  spread  out  like  a  map  before 
us,  showing  plainly  the  lines  of  our  army,  its 
routes  of  supply,  its  foraging  parties  out,  and 
my  own  camp  at  Front  Royal  as  distinctly 
as  if  we  stood  in  one  of  its  streets. 

We  now  struck  a  wood-path  running  south- 
ward and  parallel  with  the  ridge  of  the  moun- 
tains, along  which  we  travelled  for  hours,  with 
this  wonderful  panorama  of  forest  and  river, 
mountain  and  plain  before  us  in  all  the  gor- 
geous beauty  of  the  early  autumn. 

"This  is  a  favorite  promenade  of  mine,,, 
said  Mosby.  "I  love  to  see  your  people 
sending  out  their  almost  daily  raids  after  me. 
There  comes  one  of  them  now  almost  towards 
us.  If  you  please,  we  will  step  behind  the 
point  and  see  them  pass.  It  may  be  the 
last  sight  you  will  have  of  your  old  friends 
86 


TWO  DAYS  WITH   MOSBY 

for  some  time,"  and,  looking  in  the  direction 
he  pointed,  I  saw  a  squadron  of  my  own  regi- 
ment coming  directly  towards  us  on  a  road 
running  under  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and 
apparently  on  some  foraging  expedition  down 
the  valley.  They  passed  within  a  half-mile 
of  us,  under  the  mountain,  while  Mosby  stood 
with  folded  arms  on  a  rock  above  them. 

Before  noon  we  reached  the  road  running 
through  Manassas  Gap,  which  was  held  by 
about  one  hundred  of  Mosby 's  men,  who 
signalled  him  as  he  approached,  and  here, 
much  to  my  regret,  the  great  guerilla  left 
us,  bidding  me  a  kindly  good-bye. 

We  were  hurried  through  the  gap  and  down 
the  eastern  side  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  and  by 
three  o'clock  reached  Chester  Gap,  after 
passing  which  we  descended  into  the  valley 
and  moved  rapidly  towards  Sperryville  on 
the  direct  line  to  Richmond. 


111 

As  we  were  far  within  the  Confederate 
lines,  our  guard  was  reduced  to  Lieutenant 
87 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

Whiting  and  three  men,  and  our  party  of 
eleven  prisoners  had  seven  horses  among 
them.  There  was  also  a  pack-horse  carrying 
our  forage,  rations,  and  some  blankets.  To 
the  saddle  of  this  pack-horse  were  strapped 
two  Spencer  carbines,  muzzle  downward, 
with  their  accoutrements  complete,  including 
two  well-filled  cartridge-boxes. 

I  called  Mack's  attention  to  this  fact  as 
soon  as  the  guard  was  reduced,  and  he  needed 
no  second  hint  to  comprehend  its  full  signifi- 
cance. He  soon  after  dismounted,  and  when 
it  came  his  turn  to  mount  again,  he  selected, 
apparently  by  accident,  the  poorest  and 
most  broken-down  horse  of  the  party.  After 
this  he  seemed  to  find  it  very  difficult  to 
keep  up,  and  in  some  mysterious  way  he 
actually  succeeded  in  laming  his  horse. 

He  then  dropped  back  to  the  Lieutenant  in 
charge  and  modestly  asked  to  exchange  his 
lame  horse  for  the  pack-horse.  He  was  par- 
ticularly winning  in  his  address,  and  his  re- 
quest was  at  once  granted,  without  a  suspi- 
cion of  its  object  or  a  thought  of  the  fatal 
carbines  on  the  pack-saddle.  I  used  some 
88 


TWO  DAYS  WITH  MOSBY 

little  skill  in  diverting  the  attention  of  the 
Lieutenant  while  the  pack  was  readjusted; 
and  as  the  rain  had  begun  to  fall  freely,  no 
one  of  the  guard  was  particularly  alert. 

I  was  presently  gratified  with  the  sight  of 
Mack  riding  ahead  on  the  pack-horse,  with 
the  two  carbines  still  strapped  to  the  saddle, 
but  loosened,  and  well  concealed  by  his  heavy 
poncho,  which  he  had  spread  as  protection 
from  the  rain.  These  carbines  were  seven- 
shooters,  loaded  from  the  breech  by  simply 
drawing  out  from  the  hollow  stock  a  spiral 
spring,  and  dropping  in  the  seven  cartridges, 
one  after  the  other,  and  then  inserting  the 
spring  again  behind  them,  which  coils  as  it 
is  pressed  home,  and  by  its  elasticity  forces 
the  cartridges  forward,  one  at  a  time,  into 
the  barrel  at  the  successive  action  of  the  lock. 

I  could  follow  the  movements  of  Mack's 
right  arm  underneath  the  poncho.  While  he 
was  guiding  his  horse  with  his  left  hand, 
looking  the  other  way,  and  chatting  glibly 
with  the  other  boys,  I  distinctly  saw  him 
draw  the  springs  from  those  carbines  with 
his  right  hand  and  hook  them  into  the 
89 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

upper  button-hole  of  his  coat  to  support 
them,  while  he  dropped  in  the  cartridges  one 
after  another,  trotting  his  horse  at  the  time 
to  conceal  the  noise  of  their  click,  and  finally 
forcing  down  the  springs.  Then  the  brave 
fellow  glanced  at  me  triumphantly. 

I  nodded  approval.  Fearing  that  Mack 
might  act  too  hastily,  yet  knowing  that  any 
instant  might  lead  to  discovery,  I  rode  care- 
lessly across  the  road  to  Brown,  who  was 
on  foot,  and,  dismounting,  asked  him  to 
tighten  my  girth.  Then  I  told  him  the  sit- 
uation as  quietly  as  possible,  and  request- 
ed him  to  ride  up  gradually  beside  Mack,  to 
communicate  with  him,  and,  at  a  signal  from 
me,  to  seize  one  of  the  carbines  and  do  his 
duty  as  a  soldier  if  he  valued  his  liberty. 

Brown  was  terribly  frightened  and  trem- 
bled like  a  leaf,  but  went  immediately  to  his 
post,  and  I  did  not  doubt  would  do  his  duty 
well. 

I  rode  up  again  to  the  side  of  Lieutenant 

Whiting,  and   like  an  echo  from  the  past 

came  back  to  me  my  words  of  yesterday, 

"Possibly  my  turn  may  come  to-morrow.' ' 

90 


TWO  DAYS  WITH   MOSBY 

I  engaged  him  in  conversation,  and,  among 
other  things,  spoke  of  the  prospect  of  sudden 
death  as  one  always  present  in  our  army  life, 
and  the  tendency  it  had  to  either  harden  or 
soften  the  character  according  to  the  quality 
of  the  individual. 

He  expressed  the  opinion  which  many  hold, 
that  a  brutal  man  is  made  more  brutal  by  it, 
and  a  refined  and  cultivated  man  is  softened. 

We  were  on  the  immediate  flank  of  Early's 
army.  His  cavalry  was  all  around  us.  The 
road  was  much  used.  It  was  almost  night. 
We  had  passed  a  rebel  picket  but  a  mile 
back,  and  knew  not  how  near  another  camp 
might  be. 

The  three  rebel  guards  were  riding  in  front 
of  us  and  on  our  flanks.  Our  party  of  prisoners 
was  in  the  centre,  and  I  was  by  the  side  of 
Lieutenant  Whiting,  who  acted  as  rear-guard, 
when  we  entered  a  small  copse  of  willows" 
which  for  a  moment  covered  the  road.  The 
hour  was  propitious.  I  gave  the  fatal  signal 
and  instantly  threw  myself  from  my  saddle 
upon  the  Lieutenant,  grasping  him  around 
the  arms  and  dragging  him  from  his  horse, 
91 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

in  the  hope  of  securing  his  revolver,  capturing 
him,  and  compelling  him  to  pilot  us  outside 
of  the  rebel  lines.  At  the  same  instant  Mack 
raised  one  of  the  loaded  carbines,  and,  in  less 
time  than  I  can  write  it,  shot  two  of  the 
guard  in  front  of  him,  killing  them  instant- 
ly; and  then  coolly  turning  in  his  saddle,  and 
seeing  me  struggling  in  the  road  with  the 
Lieutenant,  and  the  chances  of  obtaining  the 
revolver  apparently  against  me,  he  raised 
the  carbine  the  third  time ;  and  as  I  strained 
the  now  desperate  rebel  to  my  breast,  with 
his  livid  face  over  my  left  shoulder,  he  shot 
him  as  directly  between  the  eyes  as  if  firing 
at  a  target  at  ten  paces  distance. 

Brown  had  only  wounded  his  man  in  the 
side,  and  allowed  him  to  escape. 

Our  position  was  now  perilous.  Not  a 
man  of  us  knew  the  country,  except  in  a 
general  way.  The  rebel  camps  could  not 
be  far  away;  the  whole  country  would  be 
alarmed  in  an  hour,  darkness  was  interven- 
ing; and  I  doubted  not  that,  before  sundown, 
blood-hounds  as  well  as  men  would  be  on 
our  track.  One-half  our  party  had  already 
92 


TWO  DAYS  WITH   MOSBY 

scattered,  panic-stricken,  at  the  first  alarm, 
and  they  were  flying  through  the  country  in 
every  direction. 

Only  five  remained,  including  the  faithful 
Wash,  who  immediately  showed  his  prac- 
tical qualities  by  searching  the  bodies  of  the 
slain,  and  recovering,  among  other  things, 
my  gold  hunting-watch  from  the  person  of 
Lieutenant  Whiting,  and  over  eleven  hundred 
dollars  in  greenbacks,  the  proceeds,  doubtless, 
of  their  various  robberies  of  our  men. 

"Not  quite  miff,"  said  Wash,  showing  his 
ivories  from  ear  to  ear.  "Dey  vally  dis 
nigger  at  two  thousand  dollars.  I  tink  I 
ought  to  git  de  money." 

We  instantly  mounted  the  best  horses, 
and,  well  armed  with  carbines  and  revolvers, 
struck  directly  for  the  mountain  on  our  right ; 
but  knowing  that  would  be  the  first  place  we 
should  be  sought  for,  we  soon  changed  our 
direction  to  the  south,  and  rode  for  hours 
as -rapidly  as  we  could  ride,  directly  towards 
the  enemy.  Before  darkness  came  on  we 
had  made  thirty  miles  from  the  place  of  our 
escape;  and  then  turning  sharply  up  the 
93 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

mountain,  we  rode  as  far  as  horses  could 
climb,  and,  abandoning  them,  pushed  on 
through  the  whole  night  to  the  very  summit 
of  the  Blue  Ridge.  There  we  could  see  the 
rebel  camp-fires  in  the  valley,  and  at  break  of 
dawn  we  could  view  their  entire  lines. 

The  length  of  this  weary  day,  and  the 
terrible  pangs  of  hunger  and  thirst  which 
we  suffered  on  this  barren  mountain,  belong 
to  the  mere  common  experience  of  a  soldier's 
life,  and  I  need  not  describe  them  here. 

We  had  to  go  still  farther  south  to  avoid 
the  scouts  and  pickets,  and  finally  struck 
the  Shenandoah  twenty  miles  to  the  rear  of 
Early's  entire  army.  There  we  built  a  raft, 
and  floated  by  night  forty  miles  down  that 
memorable  stream,  through  his  crafty  pickets, 
until  the  glorious  old  flag  once  more  greeted 
us  in  welcome. 


VII 

THE  FIRST  TIME  UNDER  FIRE 
The  Experience  of  a  Raw  Recruit 

IHEN  the  President  ordered  the 
army  to  be  filled  up  by  recruiting, 
drafting,  or  otherwise,  and  the 
peaceful  moneyed  men  of  the 
North  were  roused  to  protect  their  persons 
by  draining  their  pockets,  I  was  moved  by 
love  of  country,  of  adventure,  and  three  hun- 
dred dollars,  to  offer  myself  as  a  recruit  in 

the Cavalry  Regiment.     So,  under  the 

protection  of  a  strong  body  of  infantry,  I 
and  fifty  others  were  first  jolted  forty  miles 
on  a  cattle-car,  then  marched  twenty-five 
miles  to  corps  headquarters,  then  fifteen 
across  country  to  our  brigadier-commander, 
and  then  back  again  near  the  place  whence 
we  started  to  the  camp  of  the  regiment. 
After  accompanying  on  foot  the  movements 
7  95 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

of  our  mounted  troops  for  the  next  three 
weeks,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  some  member 
of  the  General's  staff  that  we  might  perhaps  be 
more  efficient  on  horseback ;  and  so  we  were 
transported  back  on  the  cars  to  the  Cavalry 
Depot  at  Washington  to  be  provided  with 
horses.  As  we  were  all  stout,  active  young 
fellows,  we  lost  in  these  various  movements 
only  fifteen  men  from  disease,  desertion,  and 
capture  by  guerillas,  and  only  five  or  six 
others  got  disheartened,  and  escaped  home 
on  our  passage  through  the  city ;  so  in  three 
weeks  more  thirty  of  us,  well-mounted,  armed, 
and  equipped,  rejoined  our  command,  and 
were  reported  fit  for  duty. 

About  a  fortnight  after  this  the  squadron 
was  called  in  from  picket,  and  marched  rap- 
idly to  unite  with  the  regiment  which  was 
engaged  with  the  enemy.  As  we  drew  near, 
the  firing  became  sharper  and  sharper,  and 
suddenly  the  captain  commanding  formed  us 
in  line,  and  carried  us  forward  on  a  trot. 
The  rapidity  of  the  movement,  the  jingling 
of  the  accoutrements,  the  pressure  of  the 
horses  and  men  on  each  side  of  me  caused  a 
96 


THE  FIRST  TIME   UNDER  FIRE 

sensation  of  excitement  rather  pleasant  than 
otherwise,  and  I  began  to  feel  very  brave  and 
warlike. 

1 '  What  is  i t  ? ' '  asked  I  of  the  old  soldier  beside 
me .    ' '  Are  we  going  to  charge  them  right  off  ? " 

I  shall  never  forget  the  look  of  contemptu- 
ous wonder  with  which  he  looked  at  me  as  he 
replied : 

"  I've  been  jest  two  years  in  this  here  regi- 
ment, and  you're  the  first  man  I  ever  met 
who  thought  he  was  going  a-charging  without 
drawing  sabres.  We're  agoing  to  be  shot  at, 
young  feller.     That's  all  for  the  present." 

There  was  something  so  cold-blooded  in  this 
that  my  enthusiasm  was  suddenly  checked.  I 
asked  no  more  questions  until  we  were  halted 
behind  a  thin  belt  of  woods.  On  the  other 
side  active  skirmishing  was  going  on.  Here 
I  saw  the  old  soldiers  get  their  carbines  in 
readiness,  and  snap  the  caps  to  clear  the 
tubes.  The  consciousness  of  the  deadly  ear- 
nest in  which  the  weapons  were  soon  to  be 
used  turned  me  sick  for  the  moment,  and 
made  me  think  of  home  and  of  death.  All 
the  time  there  were  curious  sounds  in  the  air 
97 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

above  our  heads,  as  if  large  night-beetles  had 
mistaken  us  for  lighted  candles,  and  were 
whirring  around  us;  but  as  the  others  took 
no  notice  of  them  I  hesitated  to  speak.  At 
last,  seeing  the  old  soldier  who  had  answered 
me  dodge  down  quickly  as  one  of  these 
sounds  was  heard  close  above  him,  I  ventured 
to  inquire  what  sort  of  bugs  those  were  that 
made  such  a  noise?  Indignation  blended 
with  scorn  was  visible  in  his  countenance  as 
he  satisfied  my  curiosity: 

"Bugs!  Do  you  think  that  I  am  such  a 
skeery  old  woman  as  to  be  twisting  myself 
in  my  saddle  'cause  a  bug  was  flying  at  me  ? 
Them's  pisen,  them  are!    Them's  bullets!" 

If  he  had  told  me  they  were  fifteen-inch 
shells  he  couldn't  have  startled  and  astonish- 
ed me  more.  Here  I  had  been  in  imminent 
danger  for  ten  minutes,  and  I  had  not  known 
anything  about  it.  Instinctively  I  debated 
whether  I  could  get  out  of  the  way  without 
being  detected  and  disgraced,  and  the  same 
impulse  turned  my  eyes  towards  my  Cap- 
tain. There  he  sat,  as  cool  as  a  cucumber, 
reading  a  man  a  lecture  as  to  the  proper 
98 


THE  FIRST  TIME   UNDER  FIRE 

method  of  advancing  his  carbine,  forcing  two 
or  three  others  to  dress  themselves  more  ac- 
curately upon  the  right  sergeant,  and  all  the 
while  looking  straight  at  me.  There  was  no 
use  in  my  trying  to  dodge  away  then. 

Presently  a  horse  in  front  of  me  reared  a 
little  and  dropped  to  the  ground,  and  one  or 
two  men  on  foot  came  straggling  through  the 
wood  from  the  front.  Then  there  came 
slowly  forth  a  mounted  man  leaning  forward 
on  his  saddle,  his  hand  pressed  to  his  side, 
and  red  with  blood.  Then  a  squad  of  ten  or 
fifteen  burst  through  the  branches,  slinging 
their  empty  carbines,  and  rallying  in  a  dis- 
orderly fashion  upon  our  flank.  With  a 
deadlier  fury  the  whir  of  the  bullets  swept 
above  our  line.  "Steady  there,  men!"  sang 
out  the  Captain.  "Get  your  carbines  ready, 
boys !"  An  old  infantry  soldier,  who  was  my 
front  rank  man,  turned  round  to  me,  and  said, 
"  I  say,  you  take  care  to  fire  over  my  head,  and 
don't  blow  my  brains  out  with  your  shooting, 
d'ye  hear?"  I  was  in  the  act  of  promising 
to  pay  the  most  exact  attention  to  his  order, 
when  I  was  startled  by  a  burst  of  laughter 
99 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

behind  me.  That  ubiquitous  Captain  was 
there  listening.  "Fire  over  your  head,  you 
goose!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  don't  want  him 
to  bring  down  a  star  or  a  turkey-buzzard. 
You  keep  your  fire,  Dan,  until  I  tell  you  to 
shoot;  and  don't  let  me  see  a  man  in  the  rear 
rank  fire  while  I  keep  him  standing  there. 
Mind  that  now." 

While  he  was  talking  I  could  tell  from  the 
shouts  that  our  men  had  repelled  the  rebel 
charge,  and  I  was  able  to  bear  with  composure 
the  sight  of  a  dead  officer  carried  sadly  past 
us  by  some  of  his  men.  Then  all  at  once 
along  the  enemy's  line  crashed  a  volley, 
lighting  up  the  closing  night  with  a  glare  of 
fire  whose  length  startled  and  amazed  me. 
Horses  fell  on  either  side  of  me,  and  here 
and  there  a  man's  face  would  change,  and  he 
would  slide  from  his  saddle  or  draw  his  horse 
back  from  the  line.  It  was  dreadful  sitting 
there  inactive,  waiting  helplessly  for  death; 
and  my  hand  half-consciously  drawing  upon 
my  rein,  my  horse  fell  back  about  a  foot 
from  his  place  in  line.  At  that  instant  the 
Captain  cried  out,  "Attention,  there!"  and 
ioo 


THE   FIRST  TIME   UNDER  FIRE 

looking  round,  I  saw  his  eyes  fixed  on  me 
again.  Again  he  cried,  "Attention!  Squad- 
ron into  single  rank,  march!"  and  as  I 
obeyed  the  order  I  saw  our  skirmishers 
slowly  falling  back  through  the  wood  and 
forming  a  line  upon  our  extreme  left  and 
in  our  rear.     Then  there  was  a  pause. 

Presently  I  saw  a  movement  among  the 
trees,  and  I  could  make  out  a  mass  of  men 
clustering  together  just  upon  their  edge. 
With  a  thrill,  I  knew  that  for  the  first  time 
I  saw  the  enemy;  and  every  sensation  was 
merged  in  a  frantic  desire  to  shoot,  while 
every  nerve  within  my  body  was  quivering 
with  excitement.  Then  the  Captain's  voice, 
steady  and  cheerful,  sounded  along  the  line, 
with  some  sympathetic  power  calming  my 
shaking  nerves  and  making  every  muscle  as 
firm  as  iron.  "Ready!  Aim  low.  Front 
rank  men,  fire!"  A  blaze  of  light  ran  along 
our  line,  there  was  a  deafening  explosion, 
and  a  blinding  smoke,  through  which  I  could 
hear  the  bullets  of  the  enemy  as  they  whistled 
past.  I  could  see  nothing,  but  I  heard  the 
voice  of  the  Captain  from   my  right  com- 

IOI 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

mand,  "Rear  rank  men,  fire!"  and  as  our 
second  volley  crashed  out,  there  came  the 
order,  "Load  and  fire  at  will."  And  now  it 
was  crack!  crack!  as  fast  as  we  could  get  the 
cartridges  into  our  guns,  shouting  and  cheer- 
ing as  we  did  so,  in  answer  to  the  rebel  yells. 
At  length  our  shouts  met  no  response.  I 
heard  the  officer's  command,  "Cease  firing !" 
the  smoke  swept  away,  and  I  found  it  was 
black  night,  through  which  I  could  just  see 
that  I  was  one  of  about  forty  men,  the  rem- 
nant of  the  squadron.  I  could  hear  a  few 
slowly  trotting  back  to  the  rear.  I  could 
make  out  others  on  foot  crossing  the  hill- top 
beyond,  and  could  see  a  mass  of  dead  horses 
and  one  or  two  dead  men  still  lying  at  my 
feet.  For  a  few  minutes  the  Captain  let  us 
remove  the  corpses  and  destroy  the  equip- 
ments of  the  dead  animals,  and  then  we  with- 
drew triumphantly  to  our  comrades,  the 
Captain  telling  us  once  that  we  had  done 
well,  and  then  bewailing  his  fate  that  he 
commanded  men  who  did  not  know  how 
to  wheel  by  fours.  That  was  my  first 
acquaintance  with  rebel  bullets,   and  even 

I02 


THE  FIRST  TIME   UNDER  FIRE 

the  old  soldiers  said  that  it  was  the  closest 
affair  in  which  they  had  ever  been  engaged. 

Two  days  afterwards  I  heard,  for  the  first 
time,  the  sound  of  a  shell;  and  I  might  as 
well  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  once  for  all, 
by  describing  my  sensations. 

We  were  in  the  rear  of  the  army  as  it  fell 
back  upon  Centreville,  formed  in  line  as  a 
reserve.  The  rest  of  the  cavalry  had  moved 
on  after  the  infantry,  leaving  us  to  hold  a  hill 
from  which  the  enemy  might  have  annoyed 
them  with  artillery.  We  sat  there  without 
seeing  anything  in  particular,  wondering  why 
the  rebels  did  not  come  out  of  the  woods  be- 
yond us;  when  suddenly  there  was  a  big  puff 
of  smoke  at  the  edge  of  the  trees,  a  loud  bang, 
and  a  tremendous  screech  in  the  air  above  our 
heads,  so  close  that  the  sound  almost  took  my 
head  off.  I  looked  at  the  Captain,  expecting 
to  hear  him  say,  "By  fours,  do  something  or 
other  " ;  but  he  only  said,  "  Steady!"  as  there 
was  another  puff,  another  bang,  and  another 
screech,  as  a  big  black  mass  of  iron  struck 
the  ground  ten  yards  in  front  of  us,  bounded 
over  our  heads,  and  burst  almost  above  us. 
103 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF   THE   CIVIL  WAR 

It  gave  such  a  shock  to  my  nerves  that 
I  could  not  do  anything  but  shake,  and 
I  felt  as  if  I  should  have  much  preferred  to 
be  under  the  ground  rather  than  above  it. 

Those  rebels  banged  away  at  us  for  half  a 
dozen  rounds,  each  time  striking  close  to  us, 
before  I  saw  our  skirmish-line  come  riding 
back  at  a  walk,  and  heard  the  Captain  give 
the  order, * '  By  fours,  march !  Right  counter- 
march!" and  back  we  started.  Two  files  in 
front  of  me  marched  Dan  E — ,  one  of  those 
fellows  who  always  has  his  retort  ready.  I 
heard  the  man  next  to  him  scolding  at  Dan's 
crowding  him  out  of  place:  "Why  can't  you 
follow  your  file-leader?"  "Hang  the  file- 
leader,  "  answered  Dan,  pushing  him  harder 
yet;  "they've  got  the  range  of  him."  And 
as  he  spoke  a  shell  came  down  and  buried 
itself  in  the  earth  just  where  he  would  have 
been  if  he  had  kept  in  his  place.  I  need 
not  say  that  we  all  turned  aside  after  that, 
and  pretty  soon  we  got  safely  out  of  reach. 

Now  I  know  what  artillery  and  musketry 
are  both  like;  and  I  sincerely  hope  that  I 
shall  not  face  it  again. 


VIII 

HOW  CUSHING  DESTROYED  THE  " ALBEMARLE" 
One  of  the  Bravest  Deeds  in  Naval  History 

IgfT  is  the  night  of  October  27,  1864. 
A  blockading  fleet  of  Union  vessels 
rides  at  anchor  off  the  harbor  of 
Plymouth,  North  Carolina.  Along- 
side the  flag-ship  an  open  launch  is  secured, 
her  after-part  made  visible  to  those  on  board 
the  over-towering  ship  owing  to  the  glow 
that  comes  from  the  open  door  of  the  little 
furnace.  The  light  that  streams  forth  also 
throws  into  relief  the  face  and  form  of  the 
engineer  as  he  spreads  a  layer  of  "green" 
coals  over  the  surface  of  the  fire,  and  thrusts 
the  slender  brass  spout  of  his  oil-can  into  the 
various  feed-cups  of  the  machinery.  Just 
abaft  the  cockpit,  holding  the  stern  of  the 
launch  to  the  frigate  by  means  of  a  boat- 
105 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

hook,  stands  a  blue-jacket,  his  naked  feet 
showing  as  two  white  patches  on  the  lead- 
colored  planks.  Another  seaman  is  per- 
forming a  similar  office  forward  in  the  bow, 
while  several  more  are  gathered  about  a  long, 
curious -looking  spar  carefully  secured,  with 
its  cylinder-shaped  head  resting  on  a  wad 
of  cotton-waste;  but  these  men  are  lost  to 
view,  owing  to  the  gloom  of  their  situation, 
which  is  deepened  by  contrast  to  the  fire- 
light aft.  At  the  open  gangway  of  the  flag- 
ship two  officers  stand  conversing.  Beside 
them  a  gray-haired  quartermaster  is  station- 
ed, lantern  in  hand,  to  light  the  way  down 
the  ladder  that  leads  to  the  launch.  In  the 
shoulder-straps  of  one  of  the  officers  glistens 
a  single  silver  star,  which  denotes  his  Com- 
modore's rank,  while  the  two  gold  bars  that 
decorate  the  straps  of  the  other  show  him 
to  be  a  Lieutenant.  As  the  latter  is  ob- 
served in  the  rays  of  the  lantern,  his  smooth 
face  and  slender  figure  are  suggestive  rather 
of  extreme  youth  than  of  a  man  qualified 
by  years  and  experience  to  assume  the  office 
that  his  uniform  represents.  The  gold  bands 
106 


CUSHING  DESTROYED  THE  "ALBEMARLE" 

around  his  coat  sleeves  have  been  nobly  won, 
however,  and  the  boy  of  nineteen,  who  en- 
tered the  service  three  years  previous  as  a 
master's  mate,  has  already  commanded  with 
singular  and  enviable  distinction  a  gun-boat 
of  the  blockading  squadron.  There  is  a 
touch  of  fatherly  tenderness  and  a  depth  of 
anxiety  in  the  old  Commodore's  voice  as  he 
speaks : 

"Cushing,  my  boy,  you  are  going  to  almost 
certain  death ;  the  rebels  have  learned  of  your 
object,  and  are  prepared  for  the  attempt. 
The  Albemarle,  as  you  know,  is  surrounded 
with  heavy  floating  timbers  so  arranged  that 
you  cannot  get  within  thirty  feet  of  her,  and 
unless  you  can  succeed  in  laying  your  boat 
alongside,  how  can  you  expect  to  explode  the 
torpedo?" 

The  lines  of  the  Lieutenant's  thinly  cut 
mouth  deepen,  and  the  brows  draw  ominously 
down  over  the  flashing  eyes. 

"  Commodore,  I've  got  my  plan  all  worked 
out,  and  I'll  carry  it  through  or  die  with  it! 
If  I  don't  succeed  in  destroying  that  iron- 
clad, she  will  come  out  here  before  long,  and 
107 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

perhaps  sink  the  fleet.  It's  worth  the  risk, 
sir,  and  I'm  willing  to  take  it  along  with  my 
volunteer  crew."  Then,  as  his  natural  spir- 
it of  recklessness  and  humor  comes  to  the 
surface  for  a  moment,  he  smiles  and  con- 
tinues, "It's  either  another  stripe  or  death, 
Commodore." 

The  flag-officer  presses  the  young  man's 
hand,  while  he  says,  huskily,  "God  bless  and 
grant  you  success  and  a  safe  return!" 

Preceded  by  the  quartermaster,  Lieu- 
tenant Gushing  descends  the  gangway  ladder 
and  drops  into  the  launch. 

"Lieutenant,"  says  the  old  man,  "there 
won't  be  no  sleep  in  the  fleet  to-night;  if 
ye'll  hexcuse  the  liberty,  sir,  I'll  be  a-prayin' 
for  ye." 

"All  right,  Lynch;  but  pray  hard,  for  I'll 
need  it,"  replies  Cushing.  Then  he  looks  at 
the  face  of  the  little  dial  which  registers  the 
steam-pressure,  and  turns  to  the  engineer: 
"  Keep  a  full  head  of  steam  up,  but  be  careful 
not  to  let  her  get  so  much  that  she  will  open 
the  safety-valve  and  let  Johnny  know  we're 
coming."  Next  he  goes  forward,  examines 
1 08 


CUSHING  DESTROYED  THE   "ALBEMARLE " 

the  torpedo-spar,  stations  his  small  crew, 
orders  the  furnace  door  closed,  and  lays  hold 
of  the  steering-wheel  in  the  forward  cockpit. 
"Shove  off,"  he  orders. 

The  great  black  hull  of  the  flag-ship  slips 
into  the  gloom  ahead.  A  moment  later  the 
propeller  churns  the  water,  the  tiller  is  put 
over  to  port,  the  head  of  the  launch  swerves 
to  starboard,  and  is  kept  steadily  pointed 
towards  Plymouth,  where  lies  the  great  rebel 
iron-clad  Albemarle,  waiting  only  for  the  time, 
speedily  coming,  when,  with  equipment  com- 
plete, she  will  steam  out  to  do  battle  with  the 
wooden  walls  of  her  enemies. 

After  the  fleet  has  been  left  well  astern,  the 
boyish  commander  orders  the  engines  stopped, 
and  calls  the  men  around  him. 

"Boys/'  he  says,  "I'm  going  to  tell  you 
my  plan,  so  that  you  may  work  it  out,  if 
possible,  in  case  anything  happens  to  me 
when  we  get  under  fire.  As  soon  as  I  make 
out  the  ship  and  get  my  bearings,  I'm  going 
to  put  on  a  full  head  of  steam,  and  jump  the 
launch  over  the  logs  that  surround  her  on 
the  water  side.  Once  over  the  spars,  it  will 
109 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

be  only  a  few  feet  between  us  and  the  hull; 
so  we  must  have  the  torpedo  ready  to  push 
under  the  water  against  her  side  as  soon  as 
we  get  near  enough.  On  the  dock  that  she 
is  moored  to  they  have  a  couple  of  howitzers 
and  a  company  of  sharp-shooters  to  help 
guard  the  approach  from  sea,  and  on  board 
they  are  sure  to  be  prepared  to  give  us  a  warm 
welcome.  I  will  keep  the  wheel  until  we  are 
over  the  logs,  then  I  will  handle  the  torpedo, 
so  see  that  it  is  clear  for  me.  But  if  I  should 
fall,  try  to  carry  out  my  plan,  then  jump 
overboard,  dive  under  the  logs,  swim  across 
the  river,  and  make  your  way  down  along 
the  bank  until  you  get  abreast  of  the  fleet, 
where  you  can  signal.  That  is  all,  except  to 
strip  yourselves  for  a  swim.  Do  you  un- 
derstand ?" 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,  we  understand,"  comes  the 
answer  from  the  handful  of  heroes. 

The  little  wheel  under  the  stern  of  the 
launch  turns  over  slowly  and  noiselessly  as 
eager,  anxious  eyes  peer  ahead  into  the  night. 

Suddenly  a  huge  blot  is  made  out  a  little 
on  the  port  bow,  and  a  moment  later  it 
no 


CUSHING  DESTROYED  THE  "ALBEMARLE  " 

shapes  itself  into  the  outlines  of  a  dock  with 
a  great  vessel  lying  alongside. 

Out  of  the  gloom  rings  the  challenge, 
"Boat  ahoy!" 

While  the  echo  of  the  last  word  trembles, 
Cushing  orders,  fiercely:  "Give  it  to  her! 
Steady,  boys!" 

The  engineer  opens  wide  the  valve,  and 
throws  the  wild  pressure  of  a  full  head 
of  steam  into  the  cylinder.  The  launch 
jumps  forward  in  time  to  escape  a  shower 
of  iron  hail  that  ploughs  into  her  white 
wake. 

Before  the  guns  can  be  pointed  anew  a 
long,  narrow  barrier  washing  level  with  the 
water  shows  a  few  feet  ahead. 

A  sheet  of  flame  from  the  rifle-barrels  on 
the  dock  and  ship,  so  close  to  the  open  boat 
that  it  scorches  the  air  in  the  faces  of  the 
crew,  makes  vivid  for  an  instant  the  on- 
rushing  destroyer.  One  of  the  blue- jackets 
throws  his  arms  up,  and  falls  face  downward 
in  the  cockpit  just  as  the  stem  of  the  launch 
strikes  the  log. 

Will    she   go   over    it?    is    the   agonizing 

8  in 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

thought  of  the  brave  youth  who  stands  in  the 
very  bosom  of  the  deadly  tempest. 

The  head  of  the  boat  rears  itself  on  the  air 
until  the  water  is  splashing  into  the  stern- 
sheets  aft;  then,  without  checking  her  mad 
rush,  she  clears  the  barrier  like  a  steeple- 
chaser and  hurls  herself  forward. 

Another  volley  greets  them,  and  the  en- 
gineer and  one  more  of  the  sailors  go  down ; 
but  Lieutenant  Cushing  springs  from  the 
wheel,  grasps  the  torpedo-spar,  and  as  the 
bow  of  the  launch  strikes  the  rebel  ram  he 
thrusts  it  against  her  side  just  as  a  thick 
storm  of  missiles  from  the  howitzers  crashes 
into  his  boat  and  shatters  it  to  pieces. 

But  the  doom  of  the  Albemarle  is  written. 
An  awful  rumbling  is  heard,  accompanied  by 
the  sound  of  splintering  timbers,  followed 
by  a  towering  volume  of  torn  and  maddened 
waters  that  for  a  moment  hide  the  scene  from 
friend  and  foe,  and  under  cover  of  which 
Lieutenant  Cushing  regains  the  river  be- 
yond the  floating  logs. 

Mingled  shouts  of  command  and  cries  of 
rage  are  heard  by  the  swimmer  when  he 

112 


CUSHING  DESTROYED  THE   "ALBEMARLE" 

comes  to  the  surface  after  his  plunge  under 
the  barrier.  A  number  of  bullets  whistle 
above  his  head  and  patter  into  the  water 
around  him.  It  is  evident  that  he  is  yet 
within  the  range  of  vision  of  the  sharp- 
shooters, so  he  draws  a  long  breath  and  sinks 
below  the  level  again,  striking  out  strong, 
and  swimming  until  forced  to  regain  the  air. 

The  confusion  of  voices  is  yet  audible,  but 
when  he  turns  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the 
clamor  nothing  is  visible  save  the  indistinct 
outline  of  the  shore;  then  he  knows  that  he 
no  longer  affords  a  mark  for  the  soldiers  on 
the  dock. 

But  another  cause  of  alarm  is  quickly 
manifest,  for  he  catches  the  sound  of  the 
thud  of  oars  as  they  pound  against  the  row- 
locks, telling  him  that  the  enemy  have 
manned  a  boat  and  are  seeking  him.  Before 
he  can  decide  as  to  the  direction  in  which  to 
swim  in  order  to  get  out  of  the  track  of  the 
on-coming  craft,  it  looms  up  only  a  few  yards 
from  him. 

There  is  only  one  course  to  pursue,  so, 
catching  a  quick  breath,  he  quietly  sinks, 
113 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

and  the  boat  passes  over  the  spot  where  the 
bubbles  on  the  water  mark  his  disappearance. 

Until  he  experiences  a  sense  of  suffocation 
he  remains  under,  swimming  off  at  right 
angles  to  the  path  of  his  seekers,  so  that  his 
head  may  not  be  in  line  with  the  eyes  of  the 
rowers  when  he  regains  the  surface. 

When  he  again  casts  his  anxious  eyes 
around,  nothing  is  seen,  so  he  throws  him- 
self on  his  back  and  floats  while  recovering 
his  strength,  and  shortly  after  strikes  out  for 
the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  which  he 
reaches  after  a  weary  trial,  then  creeps  into 
the  underbrush,  and  sleeps  from  exhaustion. 

The  sun  is  high  when  he  awakes.  Parting 
the  wild  foliage,  he  looks  across  and  up  the 
stream  at  the  scene  of  his  exploit.  The  dock 
is  plainly  to  be  seen,  but  the  Albemarle  has 
disappeared.  Looking  intently,  he  sees  two 
masts  rising  from  the  water  near  the  pier, 
and  is  thus  assured  that  the  career  of  the 
rebel  ship  is  ended. 

Ha!    What   causes   that  rustling   of   the 
foliage  to  his  right  ?     Is  it  an  animal,  or  is  it 
an  enemy  in  search  of  him? 
114 


CUSHING  DESTROYED  THE  "ALBEMARLE" 

Almost  naked,  and  altogether  defenceless, 
he  watches  breathlessly. 

He  promises  himself  that  he  will  never  be 
taken  alive.  Better  to  die  than  to  endure  the 
tortures  of  a  Southern  prison.  The  bushes 
part  a  little  further,  and  a  man's  sun- 
browned  face  and  brawny  bare  shoulders 
and  tattooed  arms  come  into  view. 

"Jack!"  says  the  Lieutenant,  in  a  loud, 
glad  whisper. 

" Lieutenant !"  responds  the  seaman,  in  a 
tone  of  equal  surprise  and  gladness. 

All  day  the  officer  and  his  companion,  the 
only  survivors  of  the  expedition,  work  their 
way  painfully  through  the  swamp,  and  just 
as  the  sun  is  sinking  they  drag  their  bare, 
bleeding  feet  and  cruelly  lacerated  bodies  out 
on  the  bank  of  the  river  opposite  the  Union 
fleet. 

All  hands  have  been  called  to  "  make  sun- 
set," and  the  men  are  silently  standing  by 
the  signal  halyards  and  boat -falls  waiting 
for  the  word  of  command,  when  the  quarter- 
master on  the  bridge  of  the  flag-ship  quickly 
levels  his  telescope  at  the  shore,  then  hur- 
"5 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

riedly  approaches  and  addresses  the  officer 
of  the  deck,  who  stands  beside  the  Captain. 
The  latter  takes  the  glass  from  the  seaman, 
peers  through  it  for  an  instant,  wheels  sharply 
around,  and  speaks  to  the  Lieutenant. 

"Away,  first  cutter!"  roars  the  latter. 

The  boatswain's  mate  blows  a  shrill  pipe, 
and  repeats  the  order. 

"Go  down  the  boat-falls,  boys;  lively 's 
the  word!  Jump  into  the  cutter,  Mr.  Arnold, 
and  pull  into  the  beach  for  the  men!" 

Half  an  hour  later  Lieutenant  Cushing 
comes  over  the  gangway  and  salutes  the 
Commodore.  "  I  report  my  return  on  board 
with  one  man,  sir,"  he  says;  "the  Albemarle 
is  destroyed." 


IX 


PRESIDENT     LINCOLN     AND     THE     SLEEPING 
SENTINEL 


|HE  story  of  President  Lincoln 
and  the  sleeping  sentinel  offers 
certain  substantial  facts  which 
are  common  to  all  its  versions. 
A  soldier  named  Scott,  condemned  to  be 
shot  for  the  crime  of  sleeping  on  his  post, 
was  pardoned  by  President  Lincoln,  only  to 
be  killed  afterwards  at  the  battle  of  Lee's 
Mills,  on  the  Peninsula.  The  incidental  facts 
are  varied  according  to  the  taste,  the  fancy, 
or  the  imagination  of  the  writer  of  each  ver- 
sion. The  number  of  persons  who  claim  to 
have  procured  the  intervention  of  the  Presi- 
dent to  save  the  life  of  the  soldier  nearly 
equals  that  of  the  different  versions.  As 
117 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

these  persons  worked  independently  of  each 
other,  and  one  did  not  know  what  another 
had  done,  it  is  not  improbable  that  several 
of  them  are  entitled  to  some  measure  of 
credit,  of  which  I  should  be  most  unwilling 
to  deprive  them. 

The  story  of  this  young  soldier,  as  it  was 
presented  to  me,  so  touchingly  reveals  some 
of  the  kindlier  qualities  of  the  President's 
character  that  it  seldom  fails  to  charm  those 
to  whom  it  is  related.  I  shall  give  its  facts 
as  I  understand  them,  and  I  think  I  can 
guarantee  their  general  accuracy. 

On  a  dark  September  morning  in  1861, 
when  I  reached  my  office,  I  found  waiting 
there  a  party  of  soldiers,  none  of  whom  I 
knew  personally.  They  were  greatly  excited, 
all  speaking  at  the  same  time,  and  they  were 
consequently  unintelligible.  One  of  them 
wore  the  bars  of  a  Captain.  I  said  to  them, 
pleasantly,  "  Boys,  I  cannot  understand  you. 
Pray,  let  your  Captain  say  what  you  want 
and  what  I  can  do  for  you."  They  complied, 
and  the  Captain  put  me  in  possession  of  the 
following  facts: 

118 


LINCOLN  AND  THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

They  belonged  to  the  Third  Vermont  Regi- 
ment, raised,  with  the  exception  of  one  com- 
pany, on  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Green 
Mountains,  and  mustered  into  service  while 
the  battle  of  Bull  Run  was  in  progress. 
They  were  immediately  sent  to  Washington, 
and  since  their  arrival,  during  the  last  days 
of  July,  had  been  stationed  at  the  Chain 
Bridge,  some  three  miles  above  Georgetown. 
Company  K,  to  which  most  of  them  belonged, 
was  largely  made  up  of  farmer-boys,  many  of 
them  still  in  their  minority. 

The  story  which  I  extracted  from  the 
"boys"  was,  in  substance,  this:  William 
Scott,  one  of  these  mountain  boys,  just  of 
age,  had  enlisted  in  Company  K.  Accus- 
tomed to  his  regular  sound  and  healthy  sleep, 
not  yet  inured  to  the  life  of  the  camp,  he  had 
volunteered  to  take  the  place  of  a  sick  com- 
rade who  had  been  detailed  for  picket  duty, 
and  had  passed  the  night  as  a  sentinel  on 
guard.  The  next  day  he  was  himself  detail- 
ed for  the  same  duty,  and  undertook  its  per- 
formance. But  he  found  it  impossible  to 
keep  awake  for  two  nights  in  succession,  and 
119 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

had  been  found  by  the  relief  sound  asleep  on 
his  post.  For  this  offence  he  had  been  tried 
by  a  court-martial,  found  guilty,  and  sen- 
tenced to  be  shot  within  twenty-four  hours 
after  his  trial,  and  on  the  second  morning 
after  his  offence  was  committed. 

Scott's  comrades  had  set  about  saving  him 
in  a  characteristic  way.  They  had  called  a 
meeting,  and  appointed  a  committee,  with 
power  to  use  all  the  resources  of  the  regi- 
ment in  his  behalf.  Strangers  in  Washing- 
ton, the  committee  had  resolved  to  call  on 
me  for  advice,  because  I  was  a  Vermonter, 
and  they  had  already  marched  from  the 
camp  to  my  office  since  daylight  that 
morning. 

The  Captain  took  all  the  blame  from  Scott 
upon  himself.  Scott's  mother  opposed  his 
enlistment  on  the  ground  of  his  inexperience, 
and  had  only  consented  on  the  Captain's 
promise  to  look  after  him  as  if  he  were  his 
own  son.  This  he  had  wholly  failed  to  do. 
He  must  have  been  asleep  or  stupid  himself, 
he  said,  when  he  paid  no  attention  to  the 
boy's  statement  that  he  had  fallen  asleep 
120 


LINCOLN  AND  THE   SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

during  the  day,  and  feared  he  could  not  keep 
awake  the  second  night  on  picket.  Instead 
of  sending  some  one  or  going  himself  in 
Scott's  place,  as  he  should,  he  had  let  him  go 
to  his  death.  He  alone  was  guilty — "  If  any 
one  ought  to  be  shot,  I  am  the  fellow,  and 
everybody  at  home  would  have  the  right  to 
say  so."  "There  must  be  some  way  to  save 
him,  judge!"  (They  all  called  me  judge.) 
"  He  is  as  good  a  boy  as  there  is  in  the  army, 
and  he  ain't  to  blame.  You  will  help  us, 
now,  won't  you?"  he  said,  almost  with 
tears. 

The  other  members  of  the  committee  had 
a  definite,  if  not  a  practicable,  plan.  They 
insisted  that  Scott  had  not  been  tried,  and 
gave  this  account  of  the  proceeding.  He  was 
asked  what  he  had  to  say  to  the  charge,  and 
said  he  would  tell  them  just  how  it  all  hap- 
pened. He  had  never  been  up  all  night  that 
he  remembered.  He  was  "all  beat  out"  by 
the  night  before,  and  knowing  he  should  have 
a  hard  fight  to  keep  awake,  he  thought  of 
hiring  one  of  the  boys  to  go  in  his  place,  but 
they  might  think  he  was  afraid  to  do  his 
121 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

duty,  and  he  decided  to  "  chance  it."  Twice 
he  went  to  sleep  and  woke  himself  while  he 
was  marching,  and  then — he  could  not  tell 
anything  about  it — all  he  knew  was  that  he 
was  sound  asleep  when  the  guard  came.  It 
was  very  wrong,  he  knew.  He  wanted  to  be 
a  good  soldier,  and  do  all  his  duty.  What 
else  did  he  enlist  for?  They  could  shoot 
him,  and  perhaps  they  ought  to,  but  he  could 
not  have  tried  harder;  and  if  he  was  in  the 
same  place  again,  he  could  no  more  help  go- 
ing to  sleep  than  he  could  fly. 

One  must  have  been  made  of  sterner  stuff 
than  I  was  not  to  be  touched  by  the  earnest 
manner  with  which  these  men  offered  to 
devote  even  their  farms  to  the  aid  of  their 
comrade.  The  Captain  and  the  others  had 
no  need  of  words  to  express  their  emotions. 
I  saw  that  the  situation  was  surrounded  by 
difficulties  of  which  they  knew  nothing. 
They  had  subscribed  a  sum  of  money  to  pay 
counsel,  and  offered  to  pledge  their  credit  to 
any  amount  necessary  to  secure  him  a  fair 
trial. 

"Put  up  your  money,"  I  said.     "It  will 

122 


LINCOLN  AND  THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

be  long  after  this  when  one  of  my  name  takes 
money  for  helping  a  Vermont  soldier.  I 
know  facts  which  touch  this  case  of  which 
you  know  nothing.  I  fear  that  nothing 
effectual  can  be  done  for  your  comrade. 
The  courts  and  lawyers  can  do  nothing. 
I  fear  that  we  can  do  no  more;  but  we  can 
try." 

I  must  digress  here  to  say  that  the  Chain 
Bridge  across  the  Potomac  was  one  of  the 
positions  upon  which  the  safety  of  Wash- 
ington depended.  The  Confederates  had 
fortified  the  approach  to  it  on  the  Virginia 
side,  and  the  Federals  on  the  hills  of  Mary- 
land opposite.  Here,  for  months,  the  op- 
posing forces  had  confronted  each  other. 
There  had  been  no  fighting;  the  men,  and 
even  the  officers,  had  gradually  contracted 
an  intimacy,  and,  having  nothing  better  to 
do,  had  swapped  stories  and  other  property 
until  they  had  come  to  live  upon  the  footing 
of  good  neighbors  rather  than  mortal  ene- 
mies. This  relation  was  equally  inconsistent 
with  the  safety  of  Washington  and  the  stern 
discipline  of  war.  Its  discovery  had  excited 
123 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

alarm,  and  immediate  measures  were  taken 
to  break  it  up.  General  W.  F.  Smith,  better 
known  as  "  Baldy  "  Smith,  had  been  appoint- 
ed Colonel  of  the  Third  Vermont  Regiment, 
placed  in  command  of  the  post,  and  under- 
took to  correct  the  irregularity. 

General  Smith,  a  Vermonter  by  birth,  a 
West-Pointer  by  education,  was  a  soldier 
from  spur  to  crown.  In  the  demoralization 
which  existed  at  the  Chain  Bridge,  in  his 
opinion,  the  occasional  execution  of  a  sol- 
dier would  tend  to  enforce  discipline,  and 
in  the  end  promote  economy  of  life.  He  had 
issued  orders  declaring  the  penalty  of  death 
for  military  offences,  among  others  that  of  a 
sentinel  sleeping  upon  his  post.  His  orders 
were  made  to  be  obeyed.  Scott  was,  ap- 
parently, their  first  victim.  It  was  perfectly 
clear  that  any  appeal  in  his  behalf  to  Gen- 
eral Smith  would  lead  to  nothing  but  loss  of 
time. 

The  more  I  reflected  upon  what  I  was  to 
do,   the  more  hopeless  the  case  appeared. 
Thought  was  useless;  I  must  act  upon  im- 
pulse, or  I  should  not  act  at  all. 
124 


LINCOLN  AND  THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

"Come,"  I  said,  "there  is  only  one  man 
on  earth  who  can  save  your  comrade.  Fort- 
unately, he  is  the  best  man  on  the  continent. 
We  will  go  to  President  Lincoln." 

I  went  swiftly  out  of  the  Treasury  over  to 
the  White  House,  and  up  the  stairway  to 
the  little  office  where  the  President  was  writ- 
ing. The  boys  followed  in  a  procession.  I 
did  not  give  the  thought  time  to  get  any  hold 
on  me  that  I,  an  officer  of  the  government, 
was  committing  an  impropriety  in  thus  rush- 
ing a  matter  upon  the  President's  attention. 
The  President  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"What  is  this?"  he  asked.  "An  expedi- 
tion to  kidnap  somebody,  or  to  get  another 
brigadier  appointed,  or  for  a  furlough  to  go 
home  to  vote?  I  cannot  do  it,  gentlemen. 
Brigadiers  are  thicker  than  drum-majors,  and 
I  couldn't  get  a  furlough  for  myself  if  I  asked 
it  from  the  War  Department." 

There  was  hope  in  the  tone  in  which  he 
spoke.  I  went  straight  to  my  point.  "Mr. 
President,"  I  said,  "these  men  want  nothing 
for  themselves.  They  are  Green  Mountain 
boys  of  the  Third  Vermont,  who  have  come 
125 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

to  stay  as  long  as  you  need  good  soldiers. 
They  don't  want  promotion  until  they  earn 
it.  But  they  do  want  something  that  you 
alone  can  give  them — the  life  of  a  comrade." 

1  'What  has  he  done?"  asked  the  President. 
"  You  Vermont ers  are  not  a  bad  lot,  general- 
ly. Has  he  committed  murder,  or  mutiny, 
or  what  other  felony?" 

"Tell  him,"  I  whispered  to  the  Captain. 

"I  cannot!  I  cannot!  I  should  stammer 
like  a  fool!     You  can  do  it  better!" 

"Captain,"  I  said,  pushing  him  forward, 
"  Scott's  life  depends  on  you.  You  must  tell 
the  President  the  story.  I  know  it  only  from 
hearsay." 

He  commenced  like  the  man  by  the  Sea  of 
Galilee,  who  had  an  impediment  in  his 
speech;  but  very  soon  the  string  of  his 
tongue  was  loosened,  and  he  spoke  plainly. 
As  the  words  burst  from  his  lips  they  stirred 
my  own  blood.  He  gave  a  graphic  account 
of  the  whole  story,  and  ended  by  saying, 
"He  is  as  brave  a  boy  as  there  is  in  your 
army,  sir.  Scott  is  no  coward.  Our  moun- 
tains breed  no  cowards.  They  are  the  homes 
126 


LINCOLN  AND  THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

of  thirty  thousand  men  who  voted  for  Abra- 
ham Lincoln.  They  will  not  be  able  to  see 
that  the  best  thing  to  be  done  with  William 
Scott  will  be  to  shoot  him  like  a  traitor  and 
bury  him  like  a  dog!  Oh,  Mr.  Lincoln,  can 
you?" 

"No,  I  can't!"  exclaimed  the  President. 
It  was  one  of  the  moments  when  his  coun- 
tenance became  such  a  remarkable  study. 
It  had  become  very  earnest  as  the  Captain 
rose  with  his  subject;  then  it  took  on  that 
melancholy  expression  which,  later  in  his 
life,  became  so  infinitely  touching.  I  thought 
I  could  detect  a  mist  in  the  deep  cavities  of 
his  eyes.  Then,  in  a  flash,  there  was  a  total 
change.  He  smiled,  and  finally  broke  into  a 
hearty  laugh  as  he  asked  me: 

"Do  your  Green  Mountain  boys  fight  as 
well  as  they  talk?  If  they  do,  I  don't  won- 
der at  the  legends  about  Ethan  Allen." 
Then  his  face  softened  as  he  said :  "  But  what 
can  I  do?  What  do  you  expect  me  to  do? 
As  you  know,  I  have  not  much  influence  with 
the  departments?" 

"I  have  not  thought  the  matter  out,"  I 

9  127 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

said.  "  I  feel  a  deep  interest  in  saving  young 
Scott's  life.  I  think  I  knew  the  boy's  father. 
It  is  useless  to  apply  to  General  Smith.  An 
application  to  Secretary  Stanton  would  only 
be  referred  to  General  Smith.  The  only 
thing  to  be  done  was  to  apply  to  you.  It 
seems  to  me  that,  if  you  would  sign  an  order 
suspending  Scott's  execution  until  his  friends 
can  have  his  case  examined,  I  might  carry  it 
to  the  War  Department,  and  so  insure  the 
delivery  of  the  order  to  General  Smith  to- 
day, through  the  regular  channels  of  the 
War  Office." 

"No!  I  do  not  think  that  course  would 
be  safe.  You  do  not  know  these  officers  of 
the  regular  army.  They  are  a  law  unto 
themselves.  They  sincerely  think  that  it  is 
a  good  policy  occasionally  to  shoot  a  soldier. 
I  can  see  it  where  a  soldier  deserts  or  com- 
mits a  crime,  but  I  cannot  in  such  a  case  as 
Scott's.  They  say  that  I  am  always  inter- 
fering with  the  discipline  of  the  army  and 
being  cruel  to  the  soldiers.  Well,  I  can't  help 
it,  so  I  shall  have  to  go  right  on  doing  wrong. 
I  do  not  think  an  honest,  brave  soldier,  con- 
128 


LINCOLN  AND  THE   SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

scious  of  no  crime  but  sleeping  when  he  was 
weary,  ought  to  be  shot  or  hung.  The  coun- 
try has  better  uses  for  him. 

"Captain,"  continued  the  President,  "your 
boy  shall  not  be  shot — that  is,  not  to-morrow, 
nor  until  I  know  more  about  his  case."  To 
me  he  said,  "I  will  have  to  attend  to  this 
matter  myself.  I  have  for  some  time  in- 
tended to  go  up  to  the  Chain  Bridge.  I  will 
do  so  to-day.  I  shall  then  know  that  there 
is  no  mistake  in  suspending  the  execution." 

I  remarked  that  he  was  undertaking  a  bur- 
den which  we  had  no  right  to  impose ;  that  it 
was  asking  too  much  of  the  President  in  be- 
half of  a  private  soldier. 

"  Scott's  life  is  as  valuable  to  him  as  that 
of  any  person  in  the  land,"  he  said.  "You 
remember  the  remark  of  a  Scotchman  about 
the  head  of  a  nobleman  who  was  decapitated. 
'  It  was  a  small  matter  of  a  head,  but  it  was 
valuable  to  him,  poor  fellow,  for  it  was  the 
only  one  he  had.'  " 

I  saw  that  remonstrance  was  vain.  I 
suppressed  the  rising  gratitude  of  the  sol- 
diers, and  we  took  our  leave.  Two  members 
129 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

of  "  the  committee  "  remained  to  watch  events 
in  the  city,  while  the  others  returned  to  carry 
the  news  of  their  success  to  Scott  and  to  the 
camp.  Later  in  the  day  the  two  members 
reported  that  the  President  had  started  in  the 
direction  of  the  camp;  that  their  work  here 
was  ended,  and  they  proposed  to  return  to 
their  quarters. 

Within  a  day  or  two  the  newspapers  re- 
ported that  a  soldier,  sentenced  to  be  shot 
for  sleeping  on  his  post,  had  been  pardoned 
by  the  President  and  returned  to  his  regiment. 
Other  duties  pressed  me,  and  it  was  Decem- 
ber before  I  heard  anything  further  from 
Scott.  Then  another  elderly  soldier  of  the 
same  company,  whose  health  had  failed  and 
who  was  arranging  for  his  own  discharge, 
called  upon  me,  and  I  made  inquiry  about 
Scott.  The  soldier  gave  an  enthusiastic  ac- 
count of  him.  He  was  in  splendid  health, 
was  very  athletic,  popular  with  everybody, 
and  had  the  reputation  of  being  the  best  all- 
around  soldier  in  the  company,  if  not  in  the 
regiment.  His  mate  was  the  elderly  soldier 
who  had  visited  me  with  the  party  in  Septem- 
130 


LINCOLN   AND  THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

ber,  who  would  be  able  to  tell  me  all  about 
him.  To  him  I  sent  a  message,  asking  him 
to  see  me  when  he  was  next  in  the  city.  His 
name  was  Ellis  or  Evans. 

Not  long  afterwards  he  called  at  my  office, 
and,  as  his  leave  permitted,  I  kept  him  over- 
night at  my  house,  and  gathered  from  him 
the  following  facts  about  Scott.  He  said 
that,  as  we  supposed,  the  President  went  to 
the  camp,  and  had  a  long  conversation  with 
Scott,  at  the  end  of  which  he  was  sent  back 
to  his  company  a  free  man.  The  President 
had  given  him  a  paper,  which  he  preserved 
very  carefully,  which  was  supposed  to  be 
his  discharge  from  the  sentence.  A  regular 
order  for  his  pardon  had  been  read  in  the 
presence  of  the  regiment,  signed  by  General 
McClellan,  but  every  one  knew  that  his  life 
had  been  saved  by  the  President. 

From  that  day  Scott  was  the  most  in- 
dustrious man  in  the  company.  He  was 
always  at  work,  generally  helping  some 
other  soldier.  His  arms  and  his  dress  were 
neat  and  cleanly ;  he  took  charge  of  policing 
the  company's  quarters;  was  never  absent 
131 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

at  roll-call,  unless  he  was  sent  away,  and 
always  on  hand  if  there  was  any  work  to  be 
done.  He  was  very  strong,  and  practised 
feats  of  strength  until  he  could  pick  up  a 
man  lying  on  the  ground  and  carry  him 
away  on  his  shoulders.  He  was  of  great 
use  in  the  hospital,  and  in  all  the  serious 
cases  sought  employment  as  a  nurse,  because 
it  trained  him  in  night-work  and  keeping 
awake  at  night.  He  soon  attracted  atten- 
tion. He  was  offered  promotion,  which,  for 
some  reason,  he  declined. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  he  would  speak 
of  his  interview  with  Mr.  Lincoln.  One 
night,  when  he  had  received  a  long  letter 
from  home,  Scott  opened  his  heart,  and  told 
Evans  the  story. 

Scott  said :  "  The  President  was  the  kindest 
man  I  had  ever  seen ;  I  knew  him  at  once  by 
a  Lincoln  medal  I  had  long  worn.  I  was 
scared  at  first,  for  I  had  never  before  talked 
with  a  great  man.  But  Mr.  Lincoln  was  so 
easy  with  me,  so  gentle,  that  I  soon  forgot 
my  fright.  He  asked  me  all  about  the  peo- 
ple at  home,  the  neighbors,  the  farm,  and 
132 


LINCOLN  AND  THE   SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

where  I  went  to  school,  and  who  my  school- 
mates were.  Then  he  asked  me  about  moth- 
er, and  how  she  looked,  and  I  was  glad  I 
could  take  her  photograph  from  my  bosom 
and  show  it  to  him.  He  said  how  thankful 
I  ought  to  be  that  my  mother  still  lived,  and 
how,  if  he  was  in  my  place,  he  would  try  to 
make  her  a  proud  mother,  and  never  cause 
her  a  sorrow  or  a  tear.  I  cannot  remember 
it  all,  but  every  word  was  so  kind. 

"He  had  said  nothing  yet  about  that 
dreadful  next  morning.  I  thought  it  must 
be  that  he  was  so  kind-hearted  that  he 
didn't  like  to  speak  of  it.  But  why  did  he 
say  so  much  about  my  mother,  and  my  not 
causing  her  a  sorrow  or  a  tear  when  I  knew 
that  I  must  die  the  next  morning?  But  I 
supposed  that  was  something  that  would 
have  to  go  unexplained,  and  so  I  determined 
to  brace  up  and  tell  him  that  I  did  not  feel 
a  bit  guilty,  and  ask  him  wouldn't  he  fix  it 
so  that  the  firing-party  would  not  be  from 
our  regiment!  That  was  going  to  be  the 
hardest  of  all — to  die  by  the  hands  of  my 
comrades.  Just  as  I  was  going  to  ask  him 
i33 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

this  favor,  he  stood  up,  and  he  says  to  me, 
'My  boy,  stand  up  here  and  look  me  in  the 
face.'  I  did  as  he  bade  me.  'My  boy,'  he 
said, '  you  are  not  going  to  be  shot  to-morrow. 

I  believe  you  when  you  tell  me  that  you 
could  not  keep  awake.  I  am  going  to  trust 
you,  and  send  you  back  to  your  regiment. 
But  I  have  been  put  to  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
on  your  account.  I  have  had  to  come  up 
here  from  Washington  when  I  have  got  a 
great  deal  to  do;  and  what  I  want  to  know 
is,  how  are  you  going  to  pay  my  bill  ?'  There 
was  a  big  lump  in  my  throat ;  I  could  scarcely 
speak.  I  had  expected  to  die,  you  see,  and 
had  kind  of  got  used  to  thinking  that  way. 
To  have  it  all  changed  in  a  minute!  But  I 
got  it  crowded  down,  and  managed  to  say, 

I I  am  grateful,  Mr.  Lincoln!  I  hope  I  am  as 
grateful  as  ever  a  man  can  be  to  you  for 
saving  my  life.  But  it  comes  upon  me  sud- 
den and  unexpected  like.  I  didn't  lay  out 
for  it  at  all.  But  there  is  some  way  to  pay 
you,  and  I  will  find  it  after  a  little.  There 
is  the  bounty  in  the  savings-bank.  I  guess 
we  could  borrow  some  money  on  the  mort- 

i34 


LINCOLN  AND  THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

gage  of  the  farm.  There  is  my  pay,  and 
if  you  will  wait  until  pay-day  I  am  sure 
the  boys  will  help,  so  I  think  we  can  make 
it  up,  if  it  isn't  more  than  five  or  six  hun- 
dred dollars.'  'But  it  is  a  great  deal  more 
than  that,'  he  said.  Then  I  said  I  didn't 
just  see  how,  but  I  was  sure  I  would  find 
some  way — if  I  lived. 

"Then  Mr.  Lincoln  put  his  hands  on  my 
shoulders  and  looked  into  my  face  as  if  he 
was  sorry,  and  said:  'My  boy,  my  bill  is  a 
very  large  one.  Your  friends  cannot  pay  it, 
nor  your  bounty,  nor  the  farm,  nor  all  your 
comrades!  There  is  only  one  man  in  all  the 
world  who  can  pay  it,  and  his  name  is  William 
Scott!  If  from  this  day  William  Scott  does 
his  duty,  so  that,  if  I  were  there  when  he 
comes  to  die,  he  could  look  me  in  the  face  as 
he  does  now,  and  say,  I  have  kept  my  promise, 
and  I  have  done  my  duty  as  a  soldier,  then 
my  debt  will  be  paid.  Will  you  make  that 
promise,  and  try  to  keep  it?' 

"I  said  I  would  make  the  promise,  and, 
with  God's  help,  I  would  keep  it.  I  could 
not  say  any  more.  I  wanted  to  tell  him 
i35 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL   WAR 

how  hard  I  would  try  to  do  all  he  wanted; 
but  the  words  would  not  come,  so  I  had 
to  let  it  all  go  unsaid.  He  went  away, 
out  of  my  sight  forever.  I  know  I  shall 
never  see  him  again;  but  may  God  for- 
get me  if  I  ever  forget  his  kind  words  or 
my  promise." 

This  was  the  end  of  the  story  of  Evans, 
who  got  his  discharge,  and  went  home  at  the 
close  of  the  year.  I  heard  from  Scott  occa- 
sionally afterwards.  He  was  gaining  a  won- 
derful reputation  as  an  athlete.  He  was  the 
strongest  man  in  the  regiment.  The  regi- 
ment was  engaged  in  two  or  three  reconnois- 
sances  in  force,  in  which  he  performed  the 
most  exposed  service  with  singular  bravery. 
If  any  man  was  in  trouble,  Scott  was  his 
good  Samaritan;  if  any  soldier  was  sick, 
Scott  was  his  nurse.  He  was  ready  to  volun- 
teer for  any  extra  service  or  labor;  he  had 
done  some  difficult  and  useful  scouting.  He 
still  refused  promotion,  saying  that  he  had 
done  nothing  worthy  of  it.  The  final  result 
was  that  he  was  the  general  favorite  of  all 
his  comrades,  the  most  popular  man  in  the 
136 


LINCOLN   AND  THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

regiment,  and  modest,  unassuming,  and  un- 
spoiled by  his  success. 


ii 


The  next  scene  in  this  drama  opens  on  the 
Peninsula,  between  the  York  and  the  James 
rivers,  in  March,  1862.  The  sluggish  War- 
wick River  runs  from  its  source,  near  York- 
town,  across  the  Peninsula  to  its  discharge. 
It  formed  at  that  time  a  line  of  defence, 
which  had  been  fortified  by  General  Magru- 
der,  and  was  held  by  him  with  a  force  of  some 
twelve  thousand  Confederates.  Yorktown  was 
an  important  position  for  the  Confederates. 

On  the  15th  of  April  the  division  of  Gen- 
eral Smith  was  ordered  to  stop  the  enemy's 
work  on  the  entrenchments  at  Lee's  Mills, 
the  strongest  position  on  the  Warwick  River. 
His  force  consisted  of  the  Vermont  brigade 
of  five  regiments,  and  three  batteries  of 
artillery.  After  a  lively  skirmish,  which  oc- 
cupied the  greater  part  of  the  forenoon,  this 
order  was  executed,  and  should  have  ended 
the  movement. 

137 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

But  about  noon  General  McClellan  with 
his  staff,  including  the  French  princes,  came 
upon  the  scene,  and  ordered  General  Smith 
to  assault  and  capture  the  rebel  works  on 
the  opposite  bank.  Some  discretion  was 
given  to  General  Smith,  who  was  directed 
not  to  bring  on  a  general  engagement,  but  to 
withdraw  his  men  if  he  found  the  defence  too 
strong  to  be  overcome.  This  discretion  cost 
many  lives  when  the  moment  came  for  its 
exercise. 

General  Smith  disposed  his  forces  for  the 
assault,  which  was  made  by  Companies  D, 
E,  F,  and  K  of  the  Third  Vermont  Regiment, 
covered  by  the  artillery,  with  the  Vermont 
Brigade  in  reserve.  About  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  the  charge  was  ordered.  Un- 
clasping their  belts,  and  holding  their  guns 
and  cartridge-boxes  above  their  heads,  the 
Vermonters  dashed  into  and  across  the 
stream  at  Dam  Number  One,  the  strongest 
position  in  the  Confederate  line,  and  cleared 
out  the  rifle-pits.  But  the  earthworks  were 
held  by  an  overwhelming  force  of  rebels,  and 
proved  impregnable.  After  a  gallant  attack 
138 


LINCOLN  AND  THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

upon  the  works  the  Vermonters  were  repulsed, 
and  were  ordered  to  retire  across  the  river, 
They  retreated  under  a  heavy  fire,  leaving 
nearly  half  their  number  dead  or  wounded 
in  the  river  and  on  the  opposite  shore. 

Every  member  of  these  four  companies 
was  a  brave  man.  But  all  the  eye-witnesses 
agreed  that  among  those  who  in  this,  their 
first  hard  battle,  faced  death  without  blench- 
ing, there  was  none  braver  or  more  efficient 
than  William  Scott,  of  Company  K,  debtor 
for  his  own  life  to  President  Lincoln.  He  was 
almost  the  first  to  reach  the  south  bank  of 
the  river,  the  first  in  the  rifle-pits,  and  the 
last  to  retreat.  He  recrossed  the  river  with 
a  wounded  officer  on  his  back;  he  carried 
him  to  a  place  of  safety,  and  returned  to 
assist  his  comrades,  who  did  not  agree  on 
the  number  of  wounded  men  saved  by  him 
from  drowning  or  capture,  but  all  agreed 
that  he  had  carried  the  last  wounded  man 
from  the  south  bank,  and  was  nearly  across 
the  stream,  when  the  fire  of  the  rebels  was 
concentrated  upon  him;  he  staggered  with 
his  living  burden  to  the  shore  and  fell. 
139 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

An  account  of  the  closing  scene  in  the  life 
of  William  Scott  was  given  me  by  a  wounded 
comrade,  as  he  lay  upon  his  cot  in  a  hospital 
tent,  near  Columbia  College,  in  Washington, 
after  the  retreat  of  the  army  from  the  Penin- 
sula. "He  was  all  shot  to  pieces,"  said 
private  H.  "We  carried  him  back,  out  of 
the  line  of  fire,  and  laid  him  on  the  grass  to 
die.  His  body  was  shot  through  and  through, 
and  the  blood  was  pouring  from  his  many 
wounds.  But  his  strength  was  great,  and 
such  a  powerful  man  was  hard  to  kill.  The 
surgeons  checked  the  flow  of  blood — they 
said  he  had  rallied  from  the  shock;  we  laid 
him  on  a  cot  in  a  hospital  tent,  and  the  boys 
crowded  around  him,  until  the  doctors  said 
they  must  leave  if  he  was  to  have  any  chance 
at  all.  We  all  knew  he  must  die.  We 
dropped  on  to  the  ground  wherever  we 
could,  and  fell  into  a  broken  slumber — 
wounded  and  well  side  by  side.  Just  at 
daylight  the  word  was  passed  that  Scott 
wanted  to  see  us  all.  We  went  into  his  tent 
and  stood  around  his  cot.  His  face  was 
bright  and  his  voice  cheerful,  'Boys/  he 
140 


LINCOLN   AND  THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

said,  'I  shall  never  see  another  battle.  I 
supposed  this  would  be  my  last.  I  haven't 
much  to  say.  You  all  know  what  you  can 
tell  them  at  home  about  me.  I  have  tried 
to  do  the  right  thing!  I  am  almost  certain 
you  will  all  say  that. '  Then  while  his  strength 
was  failing,  his  life  ebbing  away,  and  we 
looked  to  see  his  voice  sink  into  a  whisper, 
his  face  lighted  up  and  his  voice  came  out 
natural  and  clear  as  he  said :  '  If  any  of  you 
ever  have  the  chance,  I  wish  you  would  tell 
President  Lincoln  that  I  have  never  forgot- 
ten the  kind  words  he  said  to  me  at  the 
Chain  Bridge — that  I  have  tried  to  be  a  good 
soldier  and  true  to  the  flag — that  I  should 
have  paid  my  whole  debt  to  him  if  I  had 
lived;  and  that  now,  when  I  know  that  I 
am  dying,  I  think  of  his  kind  face  and  thank 
him  again,  because  he  gave  me  the  chance 
to  fall  like  a  soldier  in  battle,  and  not  like  a 
coward  by  the  hands  of  my  comrades.' 

"His  face,  as  he  uttered  these  words,  was 

that  of  a  happy  man.     Not  a  groan  or  an 

expression  of  pain,  not  a  word  of  complaint 

or  regret  from  his  lips.     'Good-bye,  boys,' 

141 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

he  said,  cheerily.  Then  he  closed  his  own 
eyes,  crossed  his  hands  on  his  breast,  and — 
and — that  was  all  His  face  was  at  rest,  and 
we  all  said  it  was  beautiful.  Strong  men 
stood  around  his  bed;  they  had  seen  their 
comrades  fall,  and  had  been  very  near  to 
death  themselves :  such  men  are  accustomed 
to  control  their  feelings,  but  now  they  wept 
like  children.  One  only  spoke,  as  if  to  him- 
self, 'Thank  God,  I  know  now  how  a  brave 
man  dies!' 

"Scott  would  have  been  satisfied  to  rest 
in  the  same  grave  with  his  comrades,"  the 
wounded  soldier  continued.  "But  we  want- 
ed to  know  where  he  lay.  There  was  a  small 
grove  of  cherry-trees  just  in  the  rear  of  the 
camp,  with  a  noble  oak  in  its  centre.  At  the 
foot  of  this  oak  we  dug  his  grave.  There  we 
laid  him,  with  his  empty  rifle  and  accoutre- 
ments by  his  side.  Deep  into  the  oak  we  cut 
the  initials,  W.  S.,  and  under  it  the  words,  'A 
brave  soldier.'  Our  chaplain  said  a  short 
prayer.  We  fired  a  volley  over  his  grave. 
Will  you  carry  his  last  message  to  the  Presi- 
dent?" I  answered,  "  Yes." 
142 


LINCOLN  AND  THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

Some  days  passed  before  I  again  met  the 
President.  When  I  saw  him  I  asked  if  he 
remembered  William  Scott  ? 

"Of  Company  K,  Third  Vermont  Volun- 
teers?" he  answered.  ''Certainly  I  do.  He 
was  the  boy  that  Baldy  Smith  wanted  to 
shoot  at  the  Chain  Bridge.  What  about 
William  Scott?" 

4 '  He  is  dead.  He  was  killed  on  the  Penin- 
sula," I  answered.  "I  have  a  message  from 
him  for  you,  which  I  have  promised  one  of 
his  comrades  to  deliver." 

A  look  of  tenderness  swept  over  his  face 
as  he  exclaimed,  "Poor  boy!  Poor  boy! 
And  so  he  is  dead.  And  he  sent  me  a  mes- 
sage! Well,  I  think  I  will  not  have  it  now. 
I  will  come  and  see  you." 

He  kept  his  promise.  Before  many  days 
he  made  one  of  his  welcome  visits  to  my 
office.  He  said  he  had  come  to  hear  Scott's 
message.  I  gave  it  as  nearly  as  possible  in 
Scott's  own  words.  Mr.  Lincoln  had  perfect 
control  of  his  own  countenance;  when  he 
chose,  he  could  make  it  a  blank;  when  he 
did  not  care  to  control  it,  his  was  the  most 

10  i43 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

readable  of  speaking  human  faces.  He  drew 
out  from  me  all  I  knew  about  Scott  and 
about  the  people  among  whom  he  lived. 
When  I  spoke  of  the  intensity  of  their  sym- 
pathies, especially  in  sorrow  and  trouble,  as 
a  characteristic  trait  of  mountaineers,  he  in- 
terrupted me  and  said,  "It  is  equally  com- 
mon on  the  prairies.  It  is  the  privilege  of 
the  poor.  I  know  all  about  it  from  expe- 
rience, and  I  hope  I  have  my  full  share  of  it. 
Yes,  I  can  sympathize  with  sorrow." 

"Mr.  President,"  I  said,  "I  have  never 
ceased  to  reproach  myself  for  thrusting  Scott's 
case  so  unceremoniously  before  you  —  for 
causing  you  to  take  so  much  trouble  for  a 
private  soldier.  But  I  gave  way  to  an  im- 
pulse; I  could  not  endure  the  thought  that 
Scott  should  be  shot.  He  was  a  f ellow- Ver- 
mont er,  and  I  knew  there  was  no  other  way 
to  save  his  life." 

"I  advise  you  always  to  yield  to  such 
impulses,"  he  said.  "You  did  me  as  great 
a  favor  as  the  boy.  It  was  a  new  experience 
for  me — a  study  that  was  interesting,  though 
I  have  had  more  to  do  with  people  of  his  class 
144 


LINCOLN  AND  THE   SLEEPING  SENTINEL 

than  any  other.  Did  you  know  that  Scott 
and  I  had  a  long  visit?  I  was  much  inter- 
ested in  the  boy.  I  am  truly  sorry  that  he 
is  dead,  for  he  was  a  good  boy — too  good  a 
boy  to  be  shot  for  obeying  nature.  I  am 
glad  I  interfered." 

"Mr.  Lincoln,  I  wish  your  treatment  of 
this  matter  could  be  written  into  history." 

"Tut,  tut!"  he  broke  in;  "none  of  that. 
By-the-way,  do  you  remember  what  Jeanie 
Deans  said  to  Queen  Caroline  when  the  Duke 
of  Argyle  procured  her  an  opportunity  to  beg 
for  her  sister's  life?" 

"  I  remember  the  incident  well,  but  not  the 
language." 

"  I  remember  both.  This  is  the  paragraph 
in  point :  '  It  is  not  when  we  sleep  soft  and 
wake  merrily  ourselves  that  we  think  on 
other  people's  sufferings.  Our  hearts  are 
waxed  light  within  us  then,  and  we  are  for 
righting  our  ain  wrangs  and  fighting  our  ain 
battles.  But  when  the  hour  of  trouble  comes 
to  the  mind  or  to  the  body — and  when  the 
hour  of  death  comes,  that  comes  to  high  and 
low — oh,  then  it  isna  what  we  hae  dune  for 

145 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

oursells,  but  what  we  hae  dune  for  others, 
that  we  think  on  maist  pleasantly.  And  the 
thoughts  that  ye  hae  intervened  to  spare  the 
puir  thing's  life  will  be  sweeter  in  that  hour, 
come  when  it  may,  than  if  a  word  of  your 
mouth  could  hang  the  whole  Porteous  mob 
at  the  tail  of  ae  tow." 


VIII 

THE   BATTLE   BETWEEN    THE 

AND    "  MERRIMAC  " 

Told  by  Captain  Warden   and  Lieutenant  Greene 
of  the  "Monitor" 

JOME  weeks  after  the  historic  bat- 
tle between  the  Monitor  and  the 
Merrimac  in  Hampton  Roads,  on 

March  9,  1862,  the  former  vessel 
came  to  the  Washington  Navy -yard  un- 
changed, in  the  same  condition  as  when  she 
discharged  her  parting  shot  at  the  Merrimac. 
There  she  lay  until  her  heroic  commander 
had  so  far  recovered  from  his  injuries  as  to 
be  able  to  rejoin  his  vessel.  All  leaves  of 
absence  had  been  revoked,  the  absentees  had 
returned,  and  were  ready  to  welcome  their 
Captain.  President  Lincoln,  Captain  Fox, 
and  a  limited  number  of  Captain  Worden's 
i47 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

personal  friends  had  been  invited  to  his 
informal  reception.  Lieutenant  Greene  re- 
ceived the  President  and  the  guests.  He 
was  a  boy  in  years — not  too  young  to  volun- 
teer, however,  when  volunteers  were  scarce, 
and  to  fight  the  Merrimac  during  the  last 
half  of  the  battle,  after  the  Captain  was 
disabled. 

The  President  and  the  other  guests  stood 
on  the  deck,  near  the  turret.  The  men  were 
formed  in  lines,  with  their  officers  a  little  in 
advance,  when  Captain  Worden  ascended 
the  gangway.  The  heavy  guns  in  the  navy- 
yard  began  firing  the  customary  salute  when 
he  stepped  upon  the  deck.  One  side  of  his 
face  was  permanently  blackened  by  the  pow- 
der shot  into  it  from  the  muzzle  of  a  cannon 
carrying  a  shell  of  one  hundred  pounds' 
weight,  discharged  less  than  twenty  yards 
away.  The  President  advanced  to  welcome 
him,  and  introduced  him  to  the  few  strangers 
present.  The  officers  and  men  passed  in 
review  and  were  dismissed.  Then  there  was 
a  scene  worth  witnessing.  The  old  tars 
swarmed  around  their  loved  captain,  they 
148 


"MONITOR"  AND   "MERR1MAC" 

grasped  his  hand,  crowded  to  touch  him, 
thanked  God  for  his  recovery  and  return, 
and  invoked  blessings  upon  his  head  in  the 
name  of  all  the  saints  in  the  calendar.  He 
called  them  by  their  names,  had  a  pleasant 
word  for  each  of  them,  and  for  a  few  mo- 
ments we  looked  upon  an  exhibition  of  a 
species  of  affection  that  could  only  have 
been  the  product  of  a  common  danger. 

When  order  was  restored,  the  President 
gave  a  brief  sketch  of  Captain  Worden's 
career.  Commodore  Paulding  had  been  the 
first,  Captain  Worden  the  second  officer  of 
the  navy,  he  said,  to  give  an  unqualified 
opinion  in  favor  of  armored  vessels.  Their 
opinions  had  been  influential  with  him 
and  with  the  Board  of  Construction.  Cap- 
tain Worden  had  volunteered  to  take  com- 
mand of  the  Monitor,  at  the  risk  of  his  life 
and  reputation,  before  her  keel  was  laid. 
He  had  watched  her  construction,  and  his 
energy  had  made  it  possible  to  send  her  to 
sea  in  time  to  arrest  the  destructive  opera- 
tions of  the  Merrimac.  What  he  had  done 
with  a  new  crew,  and  a  vessel  of  novel  con- 
149 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

struction,  we  all  knew.  He,  the  President, 
cordially  acknowledged  his  indebtedness  to 
Captain  Worden,  and  he  hoped  the  whole 
country  would  unite  in  the  feeling  of  obliga- 
tion. The  debt  was  a  heavy  one,  and  would 
not  be  repudiated  when  its  nature  was  under- 
stood. The  details  of  the  first  battle  between 
iron-clads  would  interest  every  one.  At  the 
request  of  Captain  Fox,  Captain  Worden  had 
consented  to  give  an  account  of  his  voyage 
from  New  York  to  Hampton  Roads,  and  of 
what  had  afterwards  happened  there  on 
board  the  Monitor. 

In  an  easy,  conversational  manner,  with- 
out any  effort  at  display,  Captain  Worden 
told  the  story,  of  which  the  following  is  the 
substance : 

"I  suppose,"  he  began,  "that  every  one 
knows  that  we  left  New  York  Harbor  in  some 
haste.  We  had  information  that  the  Merri- 
mac  was  nearly  completed,  and  if  we  were  to 
fight  her  on  her  first  appearance,  we  must  be 
on  the  ground.  The  Monitor  had  been  hur- 
ried from  the  laying  of  her  keel.  Her  engines 
were  new,  and  her  machinery  did  not  move 
i5° 


44  MONITOR"  AND  "  MERRIMAC" 

smoothly.  Never  was  a  vessel  launched  that 
so  much  needed  trial-trips  to  test  her  ma- 
chinery and  get  her  crew  accustomed  to 
their  novel  duties.  We  went  to  sea  practi- 
cally without  them.  No  part  of  the  vessel 
was  finished;  there  was  one  omission  that 
was  serious,  and  came  very  near  causing 
her  failure  and  the  loss  of  many  lives.  In 
heavy  weather  it  was  intended  that  her 
hatches  and  all  her  openings  should  be  closed 
and  battened  down.  In  that  case  all  the  men 
would  be  below,  and  would  have  to  depend 
upon  artificial  ventilation.  Our  machinery 
for  that  purpose  proved  wholly  inadequate. 
"  We  were  in  a  heavy  gale  of  wind  as  soon 
as  we  passed  Sandy  Hook.  The  vessel  be- 
haved splendidly.  The  seas  rolled  over  her, 
and  we  found  her  the  most  comfortable  ves- 
sel we  had  ever  seen,  except  for  the  ventila- 
tion, which  gave  us  more  trouble  than  I  have 
time  to  tell  you  about.  We  had  to  run  into 
port  and  anchor  on  account  of  the  weather, 
and,  as  you  know,  it  was  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning  of  Sunday  before  we  were  alongside 
the  Minnesota.  Captain  Van  Brunt  gave  us 
151 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

an  account  of  Saturday's  experience.  He 
was  very  glad  to  make  our  acquaintance, 
and  notified  us  that  we  must  be  prepared 
to  receive  the  Merrimac  at  daylight.  We 
had  had  a  very  hard  trip  down  the  coast, 
and  officers  and  men  were  weary  and  sleepy. 
But  when  informed  that  our  fight  would 
probably  open  at  daylight,  and  that  the 
Monitor  must  be  put  in  order,  every  man 
went  to  his  post  with  a  cheer.  That  night 
there  was  no  sleep  on  board  the  Monitor. 

"In  the  gray  of  the  early  morning  we  saw 
a  vessel  approaching,  which  our  friends  on 
the  Minnesota  said  was  the  Merrimac.  Our 
fastenings  were  cast  off,  our  machinery  start- 
ed, and  we  moved  out  to  meet  her  half-way. 
We  had  come  a  long  way  to  fight  her,  and 
did  not  intend  to  lose  our  opportunity. 

''Before  showing  you  over  the  vessel,  let 
me  say  that  there  were  three  possible  points 
of  weakness  in  the  Monitor,  two  of  which 
might  have  been  guarded  against  in  her  con- 
struction, if  there  had  been  more  time  to 
perfect  her  plans.  One  of  them  was  in  the 
turret,  which,  as  you  see,  is  constructed  of 
152 


"MONITOR"  AND   "MERR1MAC" 

eight  plates  of  inch  iron — on  the  side  of  the 
ports,  nine — set  on  end  so  as  to  break  joints, 
and  firmly  bolted  together,  making  a  hollow 
cylinder  eight  inches  thick.  It  rests  on  a 
metal  ring  on  a  vertical  shaft,  which  is  re- 
volved by  power  from  the  boilers.  If  a  pro- 
jectile struck  the  turret  at  an  acute  angle,  it 
was  expected  to  glance  off  without  doing 
damage.  But  what  would  happen  if  it  was 
fired  in  a  straight  line  to  the  centre  of  the 
turret,  which  in  that  case  would  receive  the 
whole  force  of  the  blow  ?  It  might  break  off 
the  bolt-heads  on  the  interior,  which,  flying 
across,  would  kill  the  men  at  the  guns;  it 
might  disarrange  the  revolving  mechanism, 
and  then  we  would  be  wholly  disabled. 

"I  laid  the  Monitor  close  alongside  the 
Merrimac,  and  gave  her  a  shot.  She  return- 
ed our  compliment  by  a  shell,  weighing  one 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  fired  when  we  were 
close  together,  which  struck  the  turret  so 
squarely  that  it  received  the  whole  force. 
Here  you  see  the  scar,  two  and  a  half  inches 
deep  in  the  wrought  iron,  a  perfect  mould  of 
the  shell.  If  anything  could  test  the  turret, 
i53 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

it  was  that  shot.  It  did  not  start  a  rivet- 
head  or  a  nut!  It  stunned  the  two  men  who 
were  nearest  where  the  ball  struck,  and  that 
was  all.  I  touched  the  lever — the  turret  re- 
volved as  smoothly  as  before.  The  turret 
had  stood  the  test ;  I  could  mark  that  point 
of  weakness  off  my  list  forever. 

"  You  notice  that  the  deck  is  joined  to  the 
side  of  the  hull  by  a  right  angle,  at  what 
sailors  call  the  'plank -shear.'  If  a  projectile 
struck  that  angle,  what  would  happen?  It 
would  not  be  defected ;  its  whole  force  would 
be  expended  there.  It  might  open  a  seam 
in  the  hull  below  the  water-line,  or  pierce 
the  wooden  hull,  and  sink  us.  Here  was  our 
second  point  of  weakness. 

"I  had  decided  how  I  would  fight  her  in 
advance.  I  would  keep  the  Monitor  moving 
in  a  circle,  just  large  enough  to  give  time  for 
loading  the  guns.  At  the  point  where  the 
circle  impinged  upon  the  Merrimac  our  guns 
should  be  fired,  and  loaded  while  we  were 
moving  around  the  circuit.  Evidently  the 
Merrimac  would  return  the  compliment  every 
time.  At  our  second  exchange  of  shots,  she 
iS4 


"MONITOR"   AND   "MERRIMAC" 

returning  six  or  eight  to  our  two,  another  of 
her  large  shells  struck  our  'plank-shear'  at 
its  angle,  and  tore  up  one  of  the  deck-plates, 
as  you  see.  The  shell  had  struck  what  I  be- 
lieved to  be  the  weakest  point  in  the  Monitor. 
We  had  already  learned  that  the  Merrimac 
swarmed  with  sharp-shooters,  for  their  bul- 
lets were  constantly  spattering  against  our 
turret  and  our  deck.  If  a  man  showed  him- 
self on  deck  he  would  draw  their  fire.  But  I 
did  not  much  consider  the  sharp-shooters. 
It  was  my  duty  to  investigate  the  effects  of 
that  shot.  I  ordered  one  of  the  pendulums 
to  be  hauled  aside,  and,  crawling  out  of  the 
port,  walked  to  the  side,  laid  down  upon  my 
chest,  and  examined  it  thoroughly.  The 
hull  was  uninjured,  except  for  a  few  splinters 
in  the  wood.  I  walked  back  and  crawled 
into  the  turret — the  bullets  were  falling  on 
the  iron  deck  all  about  me  as  thick  as  hail- 
stones in  a  storm.  None  struck  me,  I  sup- 
pose because  the  vessel  was  moving,  and  at 
the  angle,  and  when  I  was  lying  on  the  deck, 
my  body  made  a  small  mark  difficult  to  hit. 
We  gave  them  two  more  guns,  and  then  I  told 
i55 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

the  men,  what  was  true,  that  the  Merrimac 
could  not  sink  us  if  we  let  her  pound  us  for 
a  month.  The  men  cheered ;  the  knowledge 
put  new  life  into  all. 

"We  had  more  exchanges,  and  then  the 
Merrimac  tried  new  tactics.  She  endeavored 
to  ram  us,  to  run  us  down.  Once  she  struck 
us  about  amidships  with  her  iron  ram.  Here 
you  see  its  mark.  It  gave  us  a  shock,  push- 
ed us  around,  and  that  was  all  the  harm. 
But  the  movement  placed  our  sides  together. 
I  gave  her  two  guns,  which  I  think  lodged  in 
her  side,  for,  from  my  lookout  crack,  I  could 
not  see  that  either  shot  rebounded.  Ours 
being  the  smaller  vessel,  and  more  easily 
handled,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  avoiding  her 
ram.  I  ran  around  her  several  times,  plant- 
ing our  shot  in  what  seemed  to  be  the  most 
vulnerable  places.  In  this  way,  reserving 
my  fire  until  I  got  the  range  and  the  mark, 
I  planted  two  more  shots  almost  in  the  very 
spot  I  had  hit  when  she  tried  to  ram  us. 
Those  shots  must  have  been  effective,  for 
they  were  followed  by  a  shower  of  bars  of 
iron. 


"MONITOR"  AND  "MERR1MAC" 

"  The  third  weak  spot  was  our  pilot-house. 
You  see  that  it  is  built  a  little  more  than 
three  feet  above  the  deck,  of  bars  of  iron, 
ten  by  twelve  inches  square,  built  up  like  a 
log-house,  bolted  with  very  large  bolts  at  the 
corners  where  the  bars  interlock.  The  pilot 
stands  upon  a  platform  below,  his  head  and 
shoulders  in  the  pilot-house.  The  upper  tier 
of  bars  is  separated  from  the  second  by  an 
open  space  of  an  inch,  through  which  the 
pilot  may  look  out  at  every  point  of  the 
compass.  The  pilot-house,  as  you  see,  is  a 
four-square  mass  of  iron,  provided  with  no 
means  of  deflecting  a  ball.  I  expected 
trouble  from  it,  and  I  was  not  disappointed. 
Until  my  accident  happened,  as  we  ap- 
proached the  enemy  I  stood  in  the  pilot- 
house and  gave  the  signals.  Lieutenant 
Greene  fired  the  guns,  and  Engineer  Stimers, 
here,  revolved  the  turret. 

11 1  was  below  the  deck  when  the  corner  of 
the  pilot-house  was  first  struck  by  a  shot  or 
a  shell.  It  either  burst  or  was  broken,  and 
no  harm  was  done.  A  short  time  after  I  had 
given  the  signal,  and  with  my  eye  close 
i57 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

against  the  lookout  crack,  was  watching  the 
effect  of  our  shot,  when  something  happened 
to  me  —  my  part  in  the  fight  was  ended. 
Lieutenant  Greene,  who  fought  the  Merrimac 
until  she  had  no  longer  stomach  for  fighting, 
will  tell  you  the  rest  of  the  story." 

Can  it  be  possible  that  this  beardless  boy 
fought  one  of  the  historic  battles  of  the 
world  ?  This  was  the  thought  of  every  one, 
as  the  modest,  diffident  young  Greene  was 
half  pushed  forward  into  the  circle. 

"I  cannot  add  much  to  the  Captain's 
story,"  he  began.  "He  had  cut  out  the 
work  for  us,  and  we  had  only  to  follow 
his  pattern.  I  kept  the  Monitor  either 
moving  around  the  circle  or  around  the 
enemy,  and  endeavored  to  place  our  shots 
as  near  her  amidships  as  possible,  where 
Captain  Worden  believed  he  had  already 
broken  through  her  armor.  We  knew 
that  she  could  not  sink  us,  and  I  thought 
I  would  keep  right  on  pounding  her  as 
long  as  she  would  stand  it.  There  is  really 
nothing  new  to  be  added  to  Captain  Wor- 
den's  account.  We  could  strike  her  wher- 
158 


"MONITOR"  AND  "  MERRIMAC  " 

ever  we  chose;  weary  as  they  must  have 
been,  our  men  were  full  of  enthusiasm,  and 
I  do  not  think  we  wasted  a  shot.  Once  we 
ran  out  of  the  circle  for  a  moment  to  adjust 
a  piece  of  machinery,  and  I  learn  that  some 
of  our  friends  feared  that  we  were  drawing 
out  of  the  fight.  The  Merrimac  took  the 
opportunity  to  start  for  Norfolk.  As  soon 
as  our  machinery  was  adjusted  we  followed 
her,  and  got  near  enough  to  give  her  a  part- 
ing shot.  But  I  was  not  familiar  with  the 
locality;  there  might  be  torpedoes  planted 
in  the  channel,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  take 
any  risk  of  losing  our  vessel,  so  I  came  back 
to  the  company  of  our  friends.  But  except 
that  we  were,  all  of  us,  tired  and  hungry  when 
we  came  back  to  the  Minnesota  at  half-past 
twelve  p.m.,  the  Monitor  was  just  as  well  pre- 
pared to  fight  as  she  was  at  eight  o'clock  in 
the  morning  when  she  fired  the  first  gun." 

We  were  then  shown  the  injury  to  the 
pilot-house.  The  mark  of  the  ball  was  plain 
upon  the  two  upper  bars,  the  principal  im- 
pact being  upon  the  lower  of  the  two.  This 
huge  bar  was  broken  in  the  middle,  but  held 
11  i59 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

firmly  at  either  end.  The  further  it  was 
pressed  in,  the  stronger  was  the  resistance 
on  the  exterior.  On  the  inside  the  fracture 
in  the  bar  was  half  an  inch  wide.  Captain 
Worden's  eye  was  very  near  to  the  lookout 
crack,  so  that  when  the  gun  was  discharged 
the  shock  of  the  ball  knocked  him  senseless, 
while  the  mass  of  flame  filled  one  side  of  his 
face  with  coarse  grains  of  powder.  He  re- 
mained insensible  for  some  hours. 

"  Have  you  heard  what  Captain  Worden's 
first  inquiry  was  when  he  recovered  his 
senses  after  the  general  shock  to  his  system?" 
asked  Captain  Fox  of  the  President. 

"I  think  I  have,"  replied  Mr.  Lincoln, 
but  it  is  worth  relating  to  these  gentlemen." 

"His  question  was,"  said  Captain  Fox, 
" '  Have  I  saved  the  Minnesota  V 

"'Yes,  and  whipped  the  MerrimacV  some 
one  answered." 

"'Then,'  said  Captain  Worden,  'I  don't 
care  what  becomes  of  me.'  " 

"Mr.  President,"  said  Captain  Fox,  "not 
much  of  the  history  to  which  we  have  listened 
is  new  to  me.     I  saw  this  battle  from  eight 
160 


"  MONITOR"  AND   "MERRIMAC" 

o'clock  until  mid -day.  There  was  one  marvel 
in  it  which  has  not  been  mentioned — the 
splendid  handling  of  the  Monitor  throughout 
the  battle.  The  first  bold  advance  of  this 
diminutive  vessel  against  a  giant  like  the 
Merrimac  was  superlatively  grand.  She 
seemed  inspired  by  Nelson's  order  at  Trafal- 
gar :  '  He  will  make  no  mistake  who  lays  his 
vessel  alongside  the  enemy.'  One  would 
have  thought  the  Monitor  a  living  thing. 
No  man  was  visible.  You  saw  her  moving 
around  that  circle,  delivering  her  fire  in- 
variably at  the  point  of  contact,  and  heard 
the  crash  of  the  missile  against  her  enemy's 
armor  above  the  thunder  of  her  guns,  on  the 
bank  where  we  stood.  It  was  indescribably 
grand ! 

"Now,"  he  continued,  " standing  here  on 
the  deck  of  this  battle-scarred  vessel,  the 
first  genuine  iron-clad — the  victor  in  the 
first  fight  of  iron-clads — let  me  make  a  con- 
fession, and  perform  an  act  of  simple  justice. 
I  never  fully  believed  in  armored  vessels  until 
I  saw  this  battle.  I  know  all  the  facts  which 
united  to  give  us  the  Monitor.  I  withhold 
161 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

no  credit  from  Captain  Ericsson,  her  inventor, 
but  I  know  that  the  country  is  principally 
indebted  for  the  construction  of  this  vessel  to 
President  Lincoln,  and  for  the  success  of  her 
trial  to  Captain  Worden,  her  commander." 


XI 


sheridan's  ride 

Told  by  his  Aide 

"  When  I  heard  this  I  took  two  of  my  aides-de- 
camp, Major  George  A.  Forsyth  and  Captain  Joseph 
O'Keeffe,  and  with  twenty  men  from  the  escort 
started  for  the  f ront." — Front  the  Personal  Memoirs 
of  P.  H.  Sheridan,  vol.  ii.,  chap,  iii.,  page  80. 

gWSJgN  the  summer  of  1864  I  was  on 
5     T     U detached  duty  as  an  acting  aide 


on  the  staff  of  Major  -  General 
Philip  H.  Sheridan,  then  in  com- 
mand of  the  Army  of  the  Shenandoah.  I 
was  one  of  two  officers  who  rode  to  the 
front  with  him  "from  Winchester  down" 
on  October  19,  1864,  the  day  of  the  battle  of 
Cedar  Creek. 

It  seemed  as  though  the  campaign  in  the 
valley  of  the  Shenandoah  in  the  year  1864 
163 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

was  practically  over.  Twice  within  four 
days  General  Sheridan  had  attacked  and 
defeated  the  Confederate  army  under  Gen- 
eral Early:  first,  on  September  19th,  at  the 
crossing  of  Opequon  Creek,  in  front  of  Win- 
chester, Virginia,  and  again  at  Fisher's  Hill, 
twenty-two  miles  farther  up  the  valley,  on  the 
twenty-second  day  of  the  same  month.  Both 
victories  had  been  wrung  from  the  enemy 
by  dint  of  hard  fighting  and  good  judgment 
on  the  part  of  the  commanding  general  of 
the  United  States  forces,  and  his  reputation 
as  the  commander  of  an  army  was  now  seem- 
ingly as  secure  as  the  brilliant  record  he  had 
already  made  as  a  brigade,  division,  and 
corps  commander. 

The  Federal  troops  lay  quietly  in  camp  in 
fancied  security  near  Strasburg,  just  in  rear 
of  Cedar  Creek,  one  of  the  tributaries  of  the 
Shenandoah  River,  and  the  shattered  forces 
of  the  enemy  were  supposed  to  be  somewhere 
in  the  vicinity  of  Gordonsville,  Virginia ;  but 
the  Confederate  general,  Jubal  A.  Early,  was 
a  soldier  unused  to  defeat,  a  bitter  enemy 
and  a  desperate  foe,  and  as  later  events  went 
164 


SHERIDAN'S   RIDE 

to  show,  an  officer  willing  to  risk  his  all  on 
the  mere  possibility  of  regaining,  by  a  sud- 
den and  unexpected  blow,  the  lost  prestige 
of  himself  and  army.  In  my  opinion,  but 
for  the  opportune  arrival  of  General  Sheridan 
on  the  field  of  battle,  there  is  no  reasonable 
doubt  that  he  would  have  succeeded  in  ac- 
complishing his  object. 

On  the  morning  of  October  19th,  about 
daylight,  word  was  brought  from  the  picket- 
line  south  of  Winchester  of  heavy  firing  at 
the  front.  General  Sheridan  interviewed  the 
officer  who  brought  the  information,  and 
decided  that  it  must  be  the  result  of  the 
reconnoissance  that  General  Wright  had 
notified  him  the  night  before  was  to  take 
place  this  morning.  Little  apprehension  was 
occasioned  by  the  report.  After  breakfast, 
probably  nearly  or  quite  nine  o'clock,  we 
mounted  and  rode  at  a  walk  through  the  town 
of  Winchester  to  Mill  Creek,  a  mile  south  of 
the  village,  where  we  found  our  escort  await- 
ing us. 

We  could  occasionally  hear  the  far-away 
165 


STRANGE  STORIES   OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

sound  of  heavy  guns,  and  as  we  moved  out 
with  our  escort  behind  us  I  thought  that  the 
General  was  becoming  anxious.  He  leaned 
forward  and  listened  intently,  and  once  he 
dismounted  and  placed  his  ear  near  the 
ground,  seeming  somewhat  disconcerted  as 
he  rose  again  and  remounted.  We  had  not 
gone  far,  probably  not  more  than  a  mile, 
when,  at  the  crest  of  a  little  hill  on  the  road, 
we  found  the  pike  obstructed  by  some  sup- 
ply-trains which  had  started  on  their  way  to 
the  army.  They  were  now  halted,  and  seem- 
ingly in  great  confusion.  Part  of  the  wagons 
faced  one  way,  part  the  other;  others  were 
half  turned  round,  in  position  to  swing  either 
way,  but  were  huddled  together,  completely 
blocking  the  road. 

Turning  to  me,  the  General  said,  "Ride 
forward  quickly  and  find  out  the  trouble  here, 
and  report  promptly. "  I  rode  rapidly  to  the 
head  of  the  train  and  asked  for  the  quarter- 
master in  charge,  and  was  told  he  had  gone 
up  the  road  a  short  distance. 

On  reaching  him,  I  found  him  conversing 
with  a  quartermaster  -  sergeant.  They  in- 
166 


SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

formed  me  that  an  officer  had  come  from  the 
front  and  told  them  to  go  back  at  once,  as 
our  army  had  been  attacked  at  daylight,  de- 
feated, and  was  being  driven  down  the  valley. 
The  officer,  they  said,  had  gone  back  towards 
the  front  after  warning  them  to  come  no 
farther. 

Galloping  back,  I  made  my  report.  "  Pick 
out  fifty  of  the  best-mounted  men  from  the 
escort,"  was  the  response.  Riding  down  the 
column,  with  the  aid  of  one  of  the  officers  of 
the  regiment,  this  was  soon  accomplished, 
and  I  reported  with  the  selected  men.  Turn- 
ing to  his  chief  of  staff,  Colonel  J.  W.  Forsyth, 
the  General  said  something  regarding  certain 
instructions  he  had  evidently  been  giving 
him,  and  then  said  to  me,  "You  and  Cap- 
tain O'Keeffe  will  go  with  me;"  and  nodding 
good-bye  to  the  other  gentlemen  of  our  party, 
with  whom  he  had  probably  been  conferring 
while  I  was  making  up  the  cavalry  detail,  he 
turned  his  horse's  head  southward,  tighten- 
ing the  reins  of  his  bridle,  and  with  a  slight 
touch  of  the  spur  he  dashed  up  the  turnpike 
and  was  off.  A  yard  in  rear,  and  side  by 
167 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

side,  Captain  O'Keeffe  and  myself  swept  after 
him,  while  the  escort,  breaking  from  a  trot  to 
a  gallop,  came  thundering  on  behind. 

The  distance  from  Winchester  to  Cedar 
Creek,  on  the  north  bank  of  which  the  Army 
of  the  Shenandoah  lay  encamped,  is  a  little 
less  than  nineteen  miles.  The  general  direc- 
tion was  west  of  south,  and  the  road  to  it,  by 
way  of  the  valley  pike,  ran  directly  through 
the  road-side  hamlets  of  Milltown,  Kearns- 
town,  Newtown,  and  Middletown.  Our  army 
was  encamped  four  miles  south  of  Middle  - 
town.  The  Shenandoah  Valley  turnpike, 
over  which  we  were  now  speeding,  was  for- 
merly a  well-built  macadamized  road,  laid  in 
crushed  limestone,  and  until  the  advent  of 
the  war  had  been  kept  in  excellent  condition. 
Even  then,  though  worn  for  three  years  past 
by  the  tread  of  contending  armies  with  all 
the  paraphernalia  of  war  as  they  swept  up 
and  down  the  valley,  it  was  a  fairly  good  road ; 
but  the  army  supply  -  trains,  ammunition- 
wagons,  and  artillery  had  worn  it  into  deep 
ruts  in  places,  and  everywhere  the  dust  lay 
thick  and  heavy  on  its  surface,  and  powdered 
168 


SHERIDAN'S   RIDE 

the  trees  and  bushes  that  fringed  its  sides,  so 
that  our  galloping  column  sent  a  gray  cloud 
swirling  behind  us.  It  was  a  golden  sunny- 
day  that  had  succeeded  a  densely  foggy  Octo- 
ber morning.  The  turnpike  stretched  away, 
a  white,  dusty  line,  over  hill  and  through 
dale,  bordered  by  fenceless  fields,  and  past 
farm-houses  and  empty  barns  and  straggling 
orchards.  Now  and  then  it  ran  through  a 
woody  copse,  with  here  and  there  a  tiny 
stream  of  water  crossing  it,  or  meandering 
by  its  side,  so  clear  and  limpid  that  it  seemed 
to  invite  us  to  pause  and  slake  our  thirst  as 
we  sped  along  our  dusty  way.  On  either 
side  we  saw,  through  the  Indian-summer 
haze,  the  distant  hills  covered  with  woods 
and  fairly  ablaze  with  foliage;  and  over  all 
was  the  deep  blue  of  a  cloudless  southern 
sky,  making  it  a  day  on  which  one's  blood 
ran  riot  and  he  was  glad  of  health  and  life. 

Within  a  mile  we  met  more  supply -trains 
that  had  turned  back,  and  the  General  stop- 
ped long  enough  to  order  the  officer  in  charge 
to  halt,  park  his  trains  just  where  he  was, 
and  await  further  instructions.  Then  on  we 
169 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

dashed  again,  only  to  meet,  within  a  few 
moments,  more  supply -trains  hurrying  to 
the  rear.  The  General  did  not  stop,  but  sig- 
nalling the  officer  in  charge  to  join  him,  gave 
him  instructions  on  the  gallop  to  park  his 
train  at  once,  and  use  his  escort  to  arrest  and 
stop  all  stragglers  coming  from  the  army,  and 
to  send  back  to  the  front  all  well  men  who 
might  drift  to  him,  under  guard  if  necessary. 
Scarcely  had  we  parted  from  him  and  sur- 
mounted the  next  rise  in  the  road  when  we 
came  suddenly  upon  indubitable  evidence  of 
battle  and  retreat.  About  a  mile  in  advance 
of  us  the  road  was  filled  and  the  fields  dotted 
with  wagons  and  men  belonging  to  the  vari- 
ous brigade,  division,  and  corps  headquarters, 
and  in  among  them  officers'  servants  with  led 
horses,  and  here  and  there  a  broken  ambu- 
lance, sutlers'  supply- trains,  a  battery  forge 
or  two,  horses  and  mules  hastily  packed  with 
officers'  mess-kits,  led  by  their  cooks,  and 
now  and  then  a  group  of  soldiers,  evidently 
detailed  enlisted  men  attached  to  the  head- 
quarters trains.  In  fact,  this  was  the  first 
driftwood  of  a  flood  just  beyond  and  soon  to 
170 


SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

come  sweeping  down  the  road.  Passing  this 
accumulation  of  debris  with  a  rush  by  leav- 
ing the  pike  and  galloping  over  the  open 
fields  on  the  side  of  the  road,  we  pushed 
rapidly  on;  but  not  so  quickly  but  that  we 
caught  an  echoing  cheer  from  the  enlisted 
men  and  servants,  who  recognized  the  Gen- 
eral, and  shouted  and  swung  their  hats  in 
glee. 

Within  the  next  few  miles  the  pike  and 
adjacent  fields  began  to  be  lined  and  dotted 
everywhere  with  army  wagons,  sutlers'  out- 
fits, headquarters  supply  -  trains,  disabled 
caissons,  and  teamsters  with  led  mules,  all 
drifting  to  the  rear;  and  now  and  then  a 
wounded  officer  or  enlisted  man  on  horse- 
back or  plodding  along  on  foot,  with  groups 
of  straggling  soldiers  here  and  there  among 
the  wagon -trains,  or  in  the  fields,  or  some- 
times sitting  or  lying  down  to  rest  by  the 
side  of  the  road,  while  others  were  making 
coffee  in  their  tin  cups  by  tiny  camp-fires. 
Soon  we  began  to  see  small  bodies  of  soldiers 
in  the  fields  with  stacked  arms,  evidently 
cooking  breakfast.  As  we  turned  into  the 
171 


STRANGE  STORIES   OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

fields  and  passed  around  the  wagons  and 
through  these  groups,  the  General  would 
wave  his  hat  to  the  men  and  point  to  the 
front,  never  lessening  his  speed  as  he  pressed 
forward.  It  was  enough;  one  glance  at  the 
eager  face  and  familiar  black  horse  and  they 
knew  him,  and  starting  to  their  feet,  they 
swung  their  caps  around  their  heads  and 
broke  into  cheers  as  he  passed  beyond  them; 
and  then,  gathering  up  their  belongings  and 
shouldering  their  arms,  they  started  after 
him  for  the  front,  shouting  to  their  comrades 
farther  out  in  the  fields,  "Sheridan!  Sheri- 
dan!" waving  their  hats,  and  pointing  after 
him  as  he  dashed  onward;  and  they  too 
comprehended  instantly,  for  they  took  up 
the  cheer  and  turned  back  for  the  battle- 
field. 

To  the  best  of  my  recollection,  from  the 
time  we  met  the  first  stragglers  who  had 
drifted  back  from  the  army,  his  appearance 
and  his  cheery  shout  of  "Turn  back,  men! 
turn  back!  Face  the  other  way!"  as  he 
waved  his  hat  towards  the  front,  had  but 
one  result:  a  wild  cheer  of  recognition,  an 
172 


SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

answering  wave  of  the  cap.  In  no  case,  as 
I  glanced  back,  did  I  fail  to  see  the  men 
shoulder  their  arms  and  follow  us.  I  think 
it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  as  he  dashed 
on  to  the  field  of  battle,  for  miles  back  the 
turnpike  was  lined  with  men  pressing  for- 
ward after  him  to  the  front. 

So  rapid  had  been  our  gait  that  nearly  all 
of  the  escort,  save  the  commanding  officer 
and  a  few  of  his  best-mounted  men,  had  been 
distanced,  for  they  were  more  heavily  weight- 
ed, and  ordinary  troop  horses  could  not  live 
at  such  a  pace.  Once  we  were  safe  among 
our  own  people,  their  commander  had  the 
good  sense  to  see  that  his  services  were  no 
longer  a  necessity,  and  accordingly  drew  rein 
and  saved  his  horses  by  following  on  at  a 
slow  trot.  Once  the  General  halted  a  mo- 
ment to  speak  to  an  officer  he  knew  and  in- 
quire for  information.  As  he  did  so  he  turn- 
ed and  asked  me  to  get  him  a  switch ;  for  he 
usually  rode  carrying  a  light  riding-whip, 
and  furthermore  he  had  broken  one  of  the 
rowels  of  his  spurs.  Dismounting,  I  cut  one 
from  a  near-by  way -side  bush,  hastily  trim- 
i73 


STRANGE   STORIES   OF   THE  CIVIL  WAR 

med  it,  and  gave  it  him.  "Thanks,  Sandy," 
said  he,  and  as  we  started  again  he  struck 
his  splendid  black  charger  Rienzi  a  slight 
blow  across  the  shoulder  with  it,  and  he  at 
once  broke  into  that  long  swinging  gallop,  al- 
most a  run,  which  he  seemed  to  maintain  so 
easily  and  so  endlessly — a  most  distressing 
gait  for  those  who  had  to  follow  far.  These 
two  words  of  thanks  were  almost  the  only 
ones  he  addressed  to  me  until  we  reached  the 
army;  but  my  eyes  had  sought  his  face  at 
every  opportunity,  and  my  heart  beat  high 
with  hope  from  what  I  saw  there.  As  he 
galloped  on  his  features  gradually  grew  set, 
as  though  carved  in  stone,  and  the  same  dull 
red  glint  I  had  seen  in  his  piercing  black  eyes 
when,  on  other  occasions,  the  battle  was  go- 
ing against  us,  was  there  now.  Occasionally 
Captain  O'Keeffe  and  myself  exchanged  a  few 
words,  and  we  waved  our  hats  and  shouted 
to  the  men  on  the  road  and  in  the  fields  as 
we  passed  them,  pointing  to  the  General  and 
seconding  as  best  we  could  his  energetic 
shout:  "Turn  back,  men!  turnback!  Face 
the  other  way!"  Now  and  then  I  would 
J74 


SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

glance  at  the  face  of  my  companion,  Captain 
O'Keeffe,  whose  gray-blue  eyes  fairly  danced 
with  excitement  at  the  prospect  of  the  com- 
ing fray ;  for  if  ever  a  man  was  a  born  soldier 
and  loved  fighting  for  chivalry's  sake,  it  was 
that  gallant  young  Irish  gentleman,  Joe 
O'Keeffe. 

Each  moment  that  we  advanced  the  road 
became  more  closely  clogged  with  stragglers 
and  wounded  men,  and  here  the  General  sud- 
denly paused  to  speak  to  one  of  the  wounded 
officers,  from  whom  I  judge  he  got  his  only 
correct  idea  of  the  attack  by  the  enemy  at 
dawn,  the  crushing  of  our  left,  and  the  steady 
outflanking  that  had  forced  our  army  back 
to  where  it  was  at  present,  for  I  caught  some- 
thing of  what  the  officer  said,  and  his  ideas 
seemed  to  be  clear  and  concise.  This  pause 
was  a  piece  of  rare  good-fortune  for  me,  for 
my  orderly  happened  to  be  by  the  side  of  the 
road  with  my  led  horse,  and  in  a  trice  he 
changed  my  saddle,  and  I  rejoined  the  General 
ere  he  was  a  hundred  yards  away,  with  all 
the  elation  that  a  fresh  mount  after  a  weary 
one  inspires  in  the  heart  of  a  cavalryman. 
i75 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

Within  a  comparatively  short  distance  we 
came  suddenly  upon  a  field-hospital  in  a 
farm-house  close  to  the  road  beyond  New- 
town, where  the  medical  director  had  estab- 
lished part  of  his  corps.  Just  ahead  of  us  the 
road  was  filled  with  ambulances  containing 
wounded  men,  who  were  being  carried  into 
the  house  to  be  operated  upon,  while  outside 
of  the  door  along  the  foot-path  lay  several 
dead  men,  who  had  been  hastily  placed  there 
on  being  taken  from  the  stretchers. 

In  our  immediate  front  the  road  and  adja- 
cent fields  were  filled  with  sections  of  artillery, 
caissons,  ammunition -trains,  ambulances, 
battery-wagons,  squads  of  mounted  men,  led 
horses,  wounded  soldiers,  broken  wagons, 
stragglers,  and  stretcher-bearers — in  fact,  all 
that  appertains  to  and  is  part  of  the  rear  of 
an  army  in  action.  One  hasty  glance  as  we 
galloped  forward  and  we  had  taken  in  the 
situation.  About  half  or  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  this  side  of  Middletown,  with  its  left 
resting  upon  the  turnpike,  was  a  division  of 
infantry  in  line  of  battle  at  right  angles  to 
the  road,  with  its  standards  flying,  and  evi- 
176 


SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

dently  held  well  in  hand.  Near  the  turnpike, 
and  just  to  its  left,  one  of  our  batteries  was 
having  a  savage  artillery  duel  with  a  Con- 
federate battery,  which  was  in  position  on  a 
little  hill  to  the  left  and  rear  of  Middletown 
as  we  faced  it.  To  the  left  of  this  battery  of 
ours  were  the  led  horses  of  a  small  brigade  of 
cavalry,  which  was  holding  the  ground  to  the 
left  of  the  pike,  and  both  the  infantry  and 
cavalry  dismounted  skirmishers  were  in  ac- 
tion with  those  of  the  enemy.  Farther  to  the 
left,  and  slightly  to  the  rear,  on  a  bit  of  rising 
ground,  was  another  of  our  batteries  in  ac- 
tion. Half  a  mile  to  the  right,  and  somewhat 
to  the  rear  of  the  division  of  infantry  which 
was  in  line  of  battle,  could  be  seen  a  body  of 
infantry  in  column  slowly  retiring  and  tend- 
ing towards  the  pike;  and  just  beyond  these 
troops  was  another  body  of  infantry,  also  in 
column,  and  also  moving  in  the  same  general 
direction.  Farther  to  the  right,  across  a 
small  valley,  and  more  than  a  mile  away 
from  these  last-mentioned  troops,  was  a  still 
larger  force  of  infantry,  on  a  side-hill,  facing 
towards  the  enemy,  in  line  of  battle,  but  not 
177 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

in  action.  I  looked  in  vain  for  the  cavalry- 
divisions,  but  concluded  rightly  that  they 
were  somewhere  on  the  flanks  of  the  enemy. 
Skirting  the  road,  and  avoiding  as  best  we 
might  the  impediments  of  battle,  the  General, 
O'Keeffe,  and  myself  spurred  forward.  Final- 
ly, on  the  open  road  and  just  before  we 
reached  the  troops  in  line,  which  was  Getty's 
division  of  the  Sixth  Army  Corps,  I  asked 
permission  to  go  directly  down  to  the  skir- 
mish-line to  see  the  actual  condition  of  things. 
"Do  so,"  replied  the  General,  "and  report  as 
soon  as  possible."  Just  then  we  reached  the 
line,  and  as  I  glanced  back  I  saw  the  chief 
draw  rein  in  the  midst  of  the  division,  where 
he  was  greeted  by  a  storm  of  cheers  and  wild 
cries  of  "Sheridan!  Sheridan!"  while  stand- 
ards seemed  to  spring  up  out  of  the  very 
earth  to  greet  him. 

I  rode  rapidly  back  to  my  chief,  whom  I 
found  dismounted,  surrounded  by  several 
general  officers,  and  in  the  midst  of  those  of 
his  staff  who  had  not  gone  with  us  to  Wash- 
ington. Dismounting,  I  saluted.  Stepping 
178 


SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

on  one  side  from  the  group,  he  faced  me,  and 
said, 

"Well?" 

1  *  You  see  where  we  are  ?' '  (A  nod . )  * '  Low- 
ell says  that  our  losses,  killed,  wounded,  and 
missing,  are  between  three  and  five  thousand, 
and  more  than  twenty  guns,  to  say  nothing  of 
transportation.  He  thinks  he  can  hold  on 
where  he  is  for  forty  minutes  longer,  possibly 
sixty." 

I  can  see  him  before  me  now  as  I  write, 
erect,  looking  intently  in  my  eyes,  his  left 
hand  resting,  clinched  savagely,  on  the  top 
of  the  hilt  of  his  sabre,  his  right  nervously 
stroking  his  chin,  his  eyes  with  that  strange 
red  gleam  in  them,  and  his  attenuated  feat- 
ures set  as  if  cast  in  bronze.  He  stood  mute 
and  absolutely  still  for  more  than  ten  sec- 
onds ;  then,  throwing  up  his  head,  he  said : 

"Go  to  the  right  and  find  the  other  two 
divisions  of  the  Sixth  Corps  and  also  General 
Emory's  command  [the  two  divisions  of  the 
Nineteenth  Corps].  Bring  them  up,  and 
order  them  to  take  position  on  the  right  of 
Getty.  Lose  no  time."  And  as  I  turned  to 
179 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

mount,  he  called  out:  "Stay!  I'll  go  with 
you!"  And  springing  on  his  horse,  we  set 
off  together,  followed  by  the  staff. 

In  a  few  moments  we  had  reached  the  head 
of  the  nearest  division  we  were  seeking.  It 
was  ordered  on  the  line — I  think  by  the  Gen- 
eral himself ;  and  as  I  started  for  the  head  of 
the  other  division,  he  ordered  me  to  ride 
directly  over  to  General  Emory's  command 
(two  divisions  of  the  Nineteenth  Corps),  and 
order  it  up,  to  take  position  in  line  of  battle 
on  the  right  of  the  Sixth  Corps.  I  rode  over 
to  General  Emory's  line,  which  was  about  a 
mile  away,  and  found  his  troops  in  good 
condition,  though  somewhat  shattered  by  the 
fortunes  of  the  day,  facing  towards  the 
enemy,  and  half  covered  by  small  ledges  of 
rock  that  cropped  out  of  the  hill-side.  On 
receiving  the  order,  he  called  my  attention  to 
the  fact  that  in  case  the  enemy  advanced  on 
the  Sixth  Corps,  he  would  be  nearly  on  their 
flank,  and  he  thought  best  that  I  tell  the 
commanding  general  of  the  fact,  as  it  might 
induce  him  to  modify  the  order.  Galloping 
back,  I  gave  his  suggestion  to  the  General. 
180 


SHERIDAN'S   RIDE 

"No,  no!"  he  replied.  "Get  him  over  at 
once — at  once!     Don't  lose  a  moment !" 

I  fairly  tore  back,  and  the  troops  were 
promptly  put  in  motion  for  their  new  posi- 
tion, which  they  reached  in  due  time,  and 
were  formed  in  line  of  battle  in  accordance 
with  General  Sheridan's  orders. 

After  the  whole  line  was  thoroughly  form- 
ed, I  rode  over  to  my  chief  and  urged  him 
to  ride  down  it,  that  all  the  men  might  see 
him,  and  know  without  doubt  that  he  had 
returned  and  assumed  command.  At  first 
he  demurred,  but  I  was  most  urgent,  as  I 
knew  that  m  some  instances  both  men  and 
officers  who  had  not  seen  him  doubted  his 
arrival.  His  appearance  was  greeted  by  tre- 
mendous cheers  from  one  end  of  the  line  to 
the  other,  many  of  the  officers  pressing  for- 
ward to  shake  his  hand.  He  spoke  to  them 
all,  cheerily  and  confidently,  saying:  "We 
are  going  back  to  our  camps,  men,  never  fear. 
I'll  get  a  twist  on  these  people  yet.  We'll 
raise  them  out  of  their  boots  before  the  day 
is  over." 

At  no  time  did  I  hear  him  utter  that  "ter- 
181 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF   THE  CIVIL  WAR 

rible  oath"  so  often  alluded  to  in  both  prose 
and  poetry  in  connection  with  this  day's 
work. 

As  we  turned  to  go  back  from  the  end  of 
the  line,  he  halted  on  the  line  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Corps  and  said  to  me :  "  Stay  here  and 
help  fight  this  corps.  I  will  send  orders  to 
General  Emory  through  you.  Give  orders 
in  my  name,  if  necessary.  Stay  right  on  this 
line  with  it." 

"Very  good,  General,"  was  my  reply;  and 
the  General  and  staff  left  me  there  and  gal- 
loped towards  the  pike. 

It  must  have  been  nearly  or  quite  half -past 
twelve  o'clock  by  this  time,  and  as  soon  as 
the  skirmishers  were  thrown  forward  the 
troops  were  ordered  to  lie  down:  an  order 
gladly  obeyed,  for  they  had  been  on  their 
feet  since  daylight,  fighting  and  without  food. 
They  were  to  have  but  a  short  period  of  rest, 
however,  for  in  a  few  moments  the  low  rus- 
tling murmur,  that  presages  the  advance  of  a 
line  of  battle  through  dense  woods  (the  Nine- 
teenth Corps  was  formed  just  at  the  outer 
edge  of  a  belt  of  heavy  timber)  began  to  make 
182 


SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

itself  felt,  and  in  a  moment  the  men  were  in 
line  again.  A  pattering  fire  in  front,  and  our 
skirmishers  came  quickly  back  through  the 
woods,  and  were  absorbed  in  the  line;  then 
there  was  a  momentary  lull,  followed  by  a 
rustling,  crunching  sound  as  the  enemy's  line 
pressed  forward,  trampling  the  bushes  under- 
foo  and  crowding  through  bits  of  under- 
brush. 

In  a  flash  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  long, 
gray  line  stretching  away  through  the  woods 
on  either  side  of  us,  advancing  with  waving 
standards,  with  here  and  there  a  mounted 
officer  in  rear  of  it.  At  the  same  instant  the 
dark-blue  line  at  the  edge  of  the  woods  seem- 
ed to  burst  upon  their  view,  for  suddenly 
they  halted,  and  with  a  piercing  yell  poured 
in  a  heavy  volley,  that  was  almost  instantly 
answered  from  our  side,  and  then  volleys 
seemed  fairly  to  leap  from  one  end  to  the 
other  of  our  line,  and  a  steady  roar  of  mus- 
ketry from  both  sides  made  the  woods  echo 
again  in  every  direction.  Gradually,  how- 
ever, the  sounds  became  less  heavy  and 
intense,  the  volleys  slowly  died  away,  and 
183 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

we  began  to  recognize  the  fact  that  the 
enemy's  bullets  were  no  longer  clipping  the 
twigs  above  us,  and  that  their  fire  had  about 
ceased,  while  a  ringing  cheer  along  our  front 
proclaimed  that  for  the  first  time  that  day 
the  Confederate  army  had  been  repulsed. 

During  the  attack  my  whole  thought,  and 
I  believe  that  of  every  officer  on  the  line,  had 
been  to  prevent  our  troops  from  giving  way. 
In  one  or  two  places  the  line  wavered  slightly, 
but  the  universal  shout  of,  "Steady,  men, 
steady,  steady!"  as  the  field-officers  rode  up 
and  down  the  line,  seemed  to  be  all  that  was 
needed  to  inspire  the  few  nervous  ones  with 
renewed  courage  and  hold  them  well  up  to 
their  work.  As  for  myself,  I  was  more  than 
satisfied,  for  only  years  of  personal  experience 
in  war  enable  a  man  to  appreciate  at  its 
actual  value  the  tremendous  gain  when  a 
routed  army  turns,  faces,  and  checks  a  tri- 
umphant enemy  in  the  open  field.  It  is  a 
great  thing  to  do  it  with  the  aid  of  reinforce- 
ments; it  is  a  glorious  thing  to  do  it  with- 
out. 

For  a  few  moments  the  men  stood  leaning 
184 


SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

on  their  arms,  and  some  of  us  mounted  offi- 
cers rode  slowly  forward,  anxiously  peering 
through  the  trees,  but  save  for  a  dead  man 
or  two  there  was  no  sign  of  the  enemy;  the 
Confederates  had  fallen  back.  Word  was 
passed  back  to  the  line,  and  the  men  were 
ordered  to  lie  down,  which  they  willingly  did. 

After  a  time  the  news  ran  down  the  line 
that  we  were  to  advance.  Springing  to  their 
feet  at  the  word  of  command,  the  tired  troops 
stood  to  arms  and  seemed  to  resolutely  shake 
off  the  depression  that  had  sat  so  heavily 
upon  them,  and  began  to  pull  themselves 
together  for  the  coming  fray.  Everywhere 
along  the  line  of  battle  men  might  be  seen 
to  stoop  and  retie  their  shoes;  to  pull  their 
trousers  at  the  ankle  tightly  together  and 
then  draw  up  their  heavy  woollen  stockings 
over  them;  to  rebuckle  and  tighten  their 
waist-belts;  to  unbutton  the  lids  of  their 
cartridge-boxes  and  pull  them  forward  rather 
more  to  the  front ;  to  rearrange  their  haver- 
sacks and  canteens,  and  to  shift  their  rolls  of 
blankets  in  order  to  give  freer  scope  to  the 
i»5 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

expansion  of  their  shoulders  and  an  easier 
play  to  their  arms;  to  set  their  forage-caps 
tighter  on  their  heads,  pulling  the  visor  well 
down  over  their  eyes ;  and  then,  almost  as  if 
by  order,  there  rang  from  one  end  of  the  line 
to  the  other  the  rattle  of  ramrods  and  snap- 
ping of  gunlocks  as  each  man  tested  for  him- 
self the  condition  of  his  rifle,  and  made  sure 
that  his  weapon  was  in  good  order  and  to  be 
depended  upon  in  the  emergency  that  was  so 
soon  to  arise.  Then,  grounding  arms,  they 
stood  at  ease,  half  leaning  on  their  rifles,  say- 
ing little,  but  quietly  awaiting  orders  and 
grimly  gazing  straight  towards  the  front. 
In  front  of  the  battalions,  with  drawn  swords 
and  set  lips,  stood  their  line-officers,  slightly 
craning  their  heads  forward  and  looking  into 
the  woods,  as  if  trying  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  enemy  they  knew  to  be  somewhere  there, 
but  whom  as  yet  they  could  not  see. 

I  push  through  the  line  slightly  forward 
of  the  nearest  brigade,  and  in  a  moment  the 
sharp  command,  "  Attention!"  rings  down  the 
line.  "Shoulder  arms!  Forward!  March!" 
And  with  martial  tread  and  floating  flags  the 
186 


SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

line  of  battle  is  away.  "Guide  left!"  shout 
the  line  -  officers.  "Guide  left  —  left!19  and 
that  is  the  only  order  I  hear  as  we  press  for- 
ward through  the  thick  trees  and  under- 
brush. I  lean  well  forward  on  my  horse's 
neck,  striving  to  catch  if  possible  a  glimpse 
of  the  Confederate  line;  but  hark!  Here 
comes  the  first  shot.  "Steady!  Steady, 
men!"  Another,  and  now  a  few  scattering 
bullets  come  singing  through  the  woods. 
The  line  does  not  halt  or  return  the  fire,  but 
presses  steadily  on  to  the  oft -repeated  com- 
mand of  "Forward!  forward!"  that  never 
ceases  to  ring  from  one  end  to  the  other  of 
the  advancing  line.  Soon  the  woods  become 
less  dense,  and  through  the  trees  I  see  just 
beyond  us  an  open  field  partly  covered  with 
small  bushes,  and  several  hundred  yards 
away,  crowning  a  slight  crest  on  its  farther 
side,  a  low  line  of  fence-rails  and  loose  stones, 
which,  as  we  leave  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and 
come  into  the  open,  suddenly  vomits  flame 
and  smoke  along  its  entire  length,  and  a 
crashing  volley  tells  us  that  we  have  found 
the  enemy.  For  an  instant  our  line  staggers, 
187 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

but  the  volley  has  been  aimed  too  high  and 
few  men  fall.  "  Steady — steady,  men  I"  shout 
the  officers.  "  Aim  /"  and  almost  instinctive- 
ly the  whole  line  throw  forward  their  pieces. 
"Fire!"  and  the  next  instant  a  savage  volley 
answers  that  of  the  Confederates.  I  can  see 
that  it  has  told,  too,  for  in  several  places  along 
the  opposite  crest  men  spring  to  their  feet  as 
if  to  fall  back,  but  their  officers  promptly 
rally  them.  "Pour  it  into  them,  men!" 
shout  our  officers.  "  Let  them  have  it.  It's 
our  turn  now!"  for  brute  instinct  has  tri- 
umphed and  the  savage  is  uppermost  with 
all  of  us.  For  a'  moment  or  two  the  men 
stand  and  fire  at  will,  as  rapidly  as  it  is  possi- 
ble to  reload,  and  then  the  Confederate  fire 
seems  to  slowly  slacken ;  so,  with  a  universal 
shout  of  "Forward!  forward!"  we  press  tow- 
ards the  enemy's  line.  Before  we  are  much 
more  than  half-way  across  the  field,  however, 
they  seem  to  have  abandoned  our  front,  for 
I  cannot  see  anything  ahead  of  us,  though  I 
stand  up  in  my  stirrups  and  look  eagerly 
forward.  But  what — what  is  that?  Crash! 
crash!  and  from  a  little  bush-covered  pla- 
188 


SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

teau  on  our  right  the  enemy  sends  a  couple 
of  rattling  volleys  on  our  exposed  flank  that 
do  us  great  harm,  and  I  realize  that  we  are 
the  outflanked! 

For  an  instant  the  line  gives  way,  but  every 
mounted  officer  in  the  vicinity,  among  whom 
I  recognize  General  Fessenden,  seems  to  be 
instantly  on  the  spot  trying  to  rally  the 
troops  and  hold  the  line.  "Steady!  steady! 
Right  wheel!"  is  the  shout,  and  the  men,  after 
the  first  flush  of  surprise,  behave  splendidly, 
one  young  color-bearer  rushing  to  the  right 
and  waving  his  flag  defiantly  in  the  new 
direction  from  which  the  enemy's  fire  is  now 
coming.  I  ask  him  to  let  me  take  it,  as  I  am 
mounted  and  it  can  be  seen  better,  as  there 
is  some  undergrowth  at  this  particular  spot 
in  the  field.  At  first  he  demurs,  but  seeing 
the  point,  yields.  Holding  on  to  my  saddle, 
the  color-bearer  accompanies  me  towards  a 
slight  hillock.  The  line  catches  sight  of  it, 
and  the  left  begins  to  swing  slowly  round, 
the  men  in  our  immediate  vicinity  loading 
and  firing  as  rapidly  as  they  can  in  the  direc- 
tion from  which  the  enemy  is  now  advancing. 
189 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF   THE   CIVIL  WAR 

The  Confederates  are  giving  it  to  us  hotly,  and 
we  realize  that  we  have  lost  the  continuity  of 
our  line  on  both  flanks. 

Suddenly  peal  on  peal  of  musketry  broke 
out  on  our  right,  and  the  copse  in  front  of  us 
was  fairly  bullet-swept  by  repeated  volleys. 
The  next  moment  a  portion  of  one  of  McMil- 
lan's brigades,  which  he  had  promptly  swung 
round  and  faced  to  the  right,  dashed  forward, 
and  together  we  moved  up  to  the  position 
just  held  by  the  enemy,  to  find  that  he  was 
in  headlong  retreat.  One  hasty  look,  and  I 
saw  that  we  had  pierced  the  enemy's  line,  and 
that  his  extreme  left  was  cut  off  and  scat- 
tered. But  I  could  not  see  any  troops  nor 
anything  of  his  line  over  in  the  direction  of 
the  pike,  as  there  was  a  dense  belt  of  woods 
that  shut  out  the  view.  Nevertheless,  the 
steady  roar  of  artillery  and  peals  of  musketry 
told  us  that  heavy  fighting  was  going  on  in 
that  part  of  the  field.  General  McMillan  was 
already  re-forming  his  men  to  move  over  and 
take  up  the  line  and  our  former  direction  to 
the  left,  when  General  Sheridan,  riding  his 
gray  charger  Breckenridge,  and  surrounded 
190 


SHERIDAN'S   RIDE 

by  his  staff,  came  out  of  the  woods  and  dash- 
ed up.  One  glance  and  he  had  the  situation. 
"This  is  all  right!  this  is  all  right!"  was  his 
sole  comment.  Then  turning  to  General 
McMillan,  he  directed  him  to  continue  the 
movement  and  close  up  to  the  left  and  com- 
plete our  line  of  battle  as  it  originally  was. 

He  told  me,  however,  to  hold  the  troops 
until  I  saw  that  Custer  had  driven  the 
enemy's  cavalry  from  our  flank.  This  we 
could  easily  see,  as  the  country  was  open  and 
the  ground  lower  than  where  we  were.  Hav- 
ing given  these  instructions,  the  General,  fol- 
lowed by  his  staff,  galloped  rapidly  to  the 
left  and  rear  through  the  woods,  evidently 
making  for  the  pike,  where,  judging  from  the 
continued  roar  of  field-guns  and  musketry 
the.  Sixth  Corps  was  having  savage  work. 

As  soon  as  we  saw  General  Custer's  squad- 
rons charge  across  the  field  and  engage  the 
enemy's  cavalry,  General  McMillan  ordered 
the  advance,  and  we  pushed  forward,  driving 
the  enemy  ahead  of  us  through  the  wood,  and 
came  out  to  the  left  and  rear  of  the  Confed- 
erate line,  enabling  our  left  to  pour  in  a  fear- 

13  J9I 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

ful  fire  on  their  exposed  flank.  The  enemy- 
was  gallantly  holding  his  line  behind  some 
stone  fences,  but  "flesh  that  is  born  of 
woman"  could  not  stand  such  work  as  this, 
and  the  cavalry,  having  got  well  in  on  their 
right  flank  about  this  time,  their  entire  line 
gave  way  in  retreat. 

Our  whole  army  now  pressed  rapidly  for- 
ward, not  stopping  to  re-form,  but  driving 
them  from  each  new  line  of  defence;  yet 
it  was  no  walk -over  even  then,  for  the 
Confederates  fought  splendidly — desperately 
even.  They  tried  to  take  advantage  of  every 
stone  fence,  house,  or  piece  of  woods  on 
which  to  rally  their  men  and  retard  our 
advance.  Their  batteries  were  served  gal- 
lantly and  handled  brilliantly,  and  took  up 
position  after  position;  but  it  was  all  in 
vain,  for  we  outnumbered  them,  both  cavalry 
and  infantry,  and  their  men  must  have  com- 
prehended the  fact  that  our  cavalry  was 
turning  both  their  flanks. 

For  a  few  moments  the  Confederates  held 
their  position  on  the  hills,  but  suddenly 
abandoned  it  in  haste  and  sought  safety  in 
192 


SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

flight,  for  some  of  General  Custer's  cavalry 
had  crossed  the  creek  at  the  ford  below  and 
were  getting  in  their  rear,  and  to  remain  was 
to  be  captured.  I  soon  caught  up  with  some 
of  our  cavalry  regiments,  and  we  started  in 
full  cry  after  the  enemy.  It  was  no  use  for 
them  to  attempt  anything  but  flight  from 
this  on,  and  they  abandoned  everything 
and  got  away  from  our  pursuing  squadrons 
as  best  they  might,  hundreds  of  them  leav- 
ing the  pike  and  scattering  through  the  hills. 
The  road  was  literally  crammed  with  aban- 
doned wagons,  ambulances,  caissons,  and 
artillery. 

At  a  small  bridge,  where  a  creek  crosses 
the  road  some  distance  south  of  the  town, 
we  were  fired  upon  from  the  opposite  side  by 
what  I  thought  was  the  last  organized  force 
of  General  Early's  army.  I  now  believe  it  to 
have  been  his  provost  guard  with  a  large 
body  of  our  prisoners  captured  by  the  enemy 
early  in  the  day.  The  planks  of  this  bridge 
were  torn  up  to  prevent  the  enemy  from 
coming  back  during  the  night  and  carrying 
off  any  of  the  captured  property.  I  then 
i93 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

started  to  return  to  headquarters,  counting 
the  captured  cannon  as  I  went.  It  soon  oc- 
curred to  me  that  it  was  so  dark  I  might 
mistake  a  caisson  for  a  gun,  so  I  dismounted 
and  placed  my  hand  on  each  piece.  I  reach- 
ed headquarters  about  half -past  eight  or 
possibly  nine  o'clock.  Camp-fires  were  blaz- 
ing everywhere.  I  went  up  to  the  chief,  who 
was  standing  near"  a  bright  fire  surrounded 
by  a  group  of  officers,  and  saluted,  reporting 
my  return. 

1  'Where  do  you  come  from?" 

"Beyond  Strasburg." 

"What  news  have  you?" 

"The  road  is  lined  with  transportation  of 
almost  every  kind,  and  we  have  captured 
forty -four  pieces  of  artillery." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  we  have  forty-four 
pieces?" 

"  I  have  placed  my  hand  on  each  and  every 
gun." 

Standing  there  in  the  firelight  I  saw  my 
chief's  face  light  up  with  a  great  wave  of 
satisfaction. 


XII 

LEE'S    SURRENDER    AT    APPOMATTOX 
Told  by  One   Who  was  Present 

|HEN,  on  the  night  of  the  8th  of 
April,  1865,  the  cavalry  corps  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  reached 
the  two  or  three  little  houses  that 
made  up  the  settlement  at  Appomattox 
Depot — the  station  on  the  South-side  Rail- 
road that  connects  Appomattox  Court-house 
with  the  travelling  world — it  must  have  been 
nearly  or  quite  dark.  At  about  nine  o'clock 
or  half -past,  while  standing  near  the  door  of 
one  of  the  houses,  it  occurred  to  me  that  it 
might  be  well  to  try  and  get  a  clearer  idea 
of  our  immediate  surroundings,  as  it  was  not 
impossible  that  we  might  have  hot  work  here 
or  near  here  before  the  next  day  fairly  dawn- 
ed upon  us. 

i95 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF   THE  CIVIL  WAR 

My  "striker"  had  just  left  me  with  in- 
structions to  have  my  horse  fed,  groomed, 
and  saddled  before  daylight.  As  he  turned 
to  go  he  paused  and  put  this  question:  "Do 
you  think,  Colonel,  that  we'll  get  General 
Lee's  army  to-morrow?" 

"I  don't  know,"  was  my  reply;  "but  we 
will  have  some  savage  fighting  if  we  don't." 

As  the  sturdy  young  soldier  said  "Good- 
night, sir,"  and  walked  away,  I  knew  that 
if  the  enlisted  men  of  our  army  could  fore- 
cast the  coming  of  the  end  so  plainly,  there 
was  little  hope  of  the  escape  of  the  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia. 

I  walked  up  the  road  a  short  distance,  and 
looked  carefully  about  me  to  take  my  bear- 
ings. It  was  a  mild  spring  night,  with  a 
cloudy  sky,  and  the  soft  mellow  smell  of 
earthiness  in  the  atmosphere  that  not  infre- 
quently portends  rain.  If  rain  came  then  it 
might  retard  the  arrival  of  our  infantry, 
which  I  knew  General  Sheridan  was  most 
anxious  should  reach  us  at  the  earliest  possi- 
ble moment.  A  short  distance  from  where 
I  stood  was  the  encampment  of  our  head- 
196 


LEE'S  SURRENDER  AT  APPOMATTOX 

quarters  escort,  with  its  orderlies,  grooms, 
officers'  servants,  and  horses.  Just  beyond 
it  could  be  seen  the  dying  camp-fires  of  a 
cavalry  regiment,  lying  close  in  to  cavalry 
corps  headquarters.  This  regiment  was  in 
charge  of  between  six  and  eight  hundred 
prisoners,  who  had  fallen  into  our  hands  just 
at  dark,  as  Generals  Custer  and  Devin,  at  the 
head  of  their  respective  cavalry  commands, 
had  charged  into  the  station  and  captured 
four  railway  trains  of  commissariat  supplies, 
which  had  been  sent  here  to  await  the  arrival 
of  the  Confederate  army,  together  with 
twenty -six  pieces  of  artillery.  For  a  few 
moments  the  artillery  had  greatly  surprised 
and  astonished  us,  for  its  presence  was 
entirely  unexpected,  and  as  it  suddenly 
opened  on  the  charging  columns  of  cavalry 
it  looked  for  a  short  time  as  though  we  might 
have  all  unwittingly  fallen  upon  a  division  of 
infantry.  However,  it  turned  out  otherwise. 
Our  cavalry,  after  the  first  recoil,  boldly 
charged  in  among  the  batteries,  and  the 
gunners,  being  without  adequate  support, 
sensibly  surrendered.  The  whole  affair  was 
197 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

for  us  a  most  gratifying  termination  of  a  long 
day's  ride,  as  it  must  have  proved  later  on  a 
bitter  disappointment  to  the  weary  and  hun- 
gry Confederates  pressing  forward  from 
Petersburg  and  Richmond  in  the  vain  hope 
of  escape  from  the  Federal  troops,  who  were 
straining  every  nerve  to  overtake  them  and 
compel  a  surrender.  To-night  the  cavalry 
corps  was  in  their  front  and  squarely  across 
the  road  to  Lynchburg,  and  it  was  reasonably 
certain,  should  our  infantry  get  up  in  time 
on  the  morrow,  that  the  almost  ceaseless 
marching  and  fighting  of  the  last  ten  days 
were  to  attain  their  legitimate  result  in  the 
capitulation  of  General  Lee's  army. 

As  I  stood  there  in  the  dark  thinking  over 
the  work  of  the  twelve  preceding  days,  it 
was  borne  in  upon  me  with  startling  emphasis 
that  to-morrow's  sun  would  rise  big  with  the 
fate  of  the  Southern  Confederacy. 

Just  before  daylight  on  the  morning  of  the 

9th  of  April,  I  sat  down  to  a  cup  of  coffee, 

but  had  hardly  begun  to  drink  it  when  I 

heard  the  ominous   sound   of  a  scattering 

198 


LEE'S  SURRENDER  AT  APPOMATTOX 

skirmish  fire,  apparently  in  the  direction  of 
Appomattox  Court-house.  Hastily  swallow- 
ing what  remained  of  the  coffee,  I  reported  to 
General  Sheridan,  who  directed  me  to  go  to 
the  front  at  once.  Springing  into  the  saddle, 
I  galloped  up  the  road,  my  heart  being  great- 
ly lightened  by  a  glimpse  of  two  or  three  in- 
fantrymen standing  near  a  camp-fire  close 
by  the  depot  —  convincing  proof  that  our 
hoped-for  reinforcements  were  within  sup- 
porting distance. 

It  was  barely  daylight  as  I  sped  along, 
but  before  I  reached  the  cavalry  brigade  of 
Colonel  C.  H.  Smith  that  held  the  main  road 
between  Appomattox  Court-house  and  Lynch- 
burg, a  distance  of  about  two  miles  northeast 
from  Appomattox  Depot,  the  enemy  had  ad- 
vanced to  the  attack,  and  the  battle  had 
opened.  When  ordered  into  position  late  the 
preceding  night,  Colonel  Smith  had  felt  his 
way  in  the  dark  as  closely  as  possible  to 
Appomattox  Court-house,  and  at  or  near 
midnight  had  halted  on  a  ridge,  on  which  he 
had  thrown  up  a  breastwork  of  rails.  This 
he  occupied  by  dismounting  his  brigade,  and 
199 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

also  with  a  section  of  horse-artillery,  at  the 
same  time  protecting  both  his  flanks  by  a 
small  mounted  force.  As  the  enemy  ad- 
vanced to  the  attack  in  the  dim  light  of  early 
dawn  he  could  not  see  the  led  horses  of  our 
cavalry,  which  had  been  sent  well  to  the  rear, 
and  was  evidently  at  a  loss  to  determine  what 
was  in  his  front.  The  result  was  that  after 
the  first  attack  he  fell  back  to  get  his  artillery 
in  position,  and  to  form  a  strong  assaulting 
column  against  what  must  have  seemed  to 
him  a  line  of  infantry.  This  was  most  fortu- 
nate for  us,  for  by  the  time  he  again  advanced 
in  full  force,  and  compelled  the  dismounted 
cavalry  to  slowly  fall  back  by  weight  of  num- 
bers, our  infantry  was  hurrying  forward  from 
Appomattox  Depot  (which  place  it  had 
reached  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning),  and 
we  had  gained  many  precious  minutes.  At 
this  time  most  of  our  cavalry  was  fighting 
dismounted,  stubbornly  retiring.  But  the 
Confederates  at  last  realized  that  there 
was  nothing  but  a  brigade  of  dismounted 
cavalry  and  a  few  batteries  of  horse-artillery 
in  their  immediate  front,  and  pushed  forward 
200 


LEES   SURRENDER   AT   APPOMATTOX 

grimly   and   determinedly,  driving  the  dis- 
mounted troopers  slowly  ahead  of  them. 

I  had  gone  to  the  left  of  the  road,  and  was 
in  a  piece  of  woods  with  some  of  our  cavalry- 
men (who  by  this  time  had  been  ordered  to 
fall  back  to  their  horses  and  give  place  to  our 
infantry,  which  was  then  coming  up),  when 
a  couple  of  rounds  of  canister  tore  through 
the  branches  just  over  my  head.  Riding 
back  to  the  edge  of  the  woods  in  the  direction 
from  which  the  shots  came,  I  found  myself 
within  long  pistol  range  of  a  section  of  a 
battery  of  light  artillery.  It  was  in  position 
near  a  country  road  that  came  out  of  another 
piece  of  woods  about  two  hundred  yards  in 
its  rear,  and  was  pouring  a  rapid  fire  into  the 
woods  from  which  I  had  just  emerged.  As 
I  sat  on  my  horse  quietly  watching  it  from 
behind  a  rail  fence,  the  lieutenant  command- 
ing the  pieces  saw  me,  and  riding  out  for  a 
hundred  yards  or  more  towards  where  I  was, 
proceeded  to  cover  me  with  his  revolver. 
We  tired  together — a  miss  on  both  sides. 
The  second  shot  was  uncomfortably  close,  so 
far  as  I  was  concerned,  but  as  I  took  delib- 
201 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

erate  aim  for  the  third  shot  I  became  aware 
that  in  some  way  his  pistol  was  disabled;  for 
using  both  hands  and  all  his  strength  I  saw 
that  he  could  not  cock  it.  I  had  him  cover, 
ed,  and  had  he  turned  I  think  I  should  have 
fired.  He  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  Appar- 
ently accepting  his  fate,  he  laid  his  revolver 
across  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  fronted  me 
quietly  and  coolly,  and  looked  me  steadily  in 
the  face.  The  whole  thing  had  been  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  a  duel,  and  I  felt  that 
to  fire  under  the  circumstances  savored  too 
much  of  murder.  Besides,  I  knew  that  at  a 
word  from  him  the  guns  would  have  been 
trained  on  me  where  I  sat.  He,  too,  seemed 
to  appreciate  the  fact  that  it  was  an  individ- 
ual fight,  and  manfully  and  gallantly  forbore 
to  call  for  aid;  so  lowering  and  uncocking 
my  pistol,  I  replaced  it  in  my  holster,  and 
shook  my  fist  at  him,  which  action  he  cor- 
dially reciprocated,  and  then  turning  away, 
I  rode  back  into  the  woods. 

About  this  time  the  enemy's  artillery 
ceased  firing,  and  I  again  rode  rapidly  to  the 
edge  of  the  woods,  just  in  time  to  see  the 

202 


LEE'S  SURRENDER  AT  APPOMATTOX 

guns  limber  up  and  retire  down  the  wood 
road  from  which  they  had  come.  The  lieu- 
tenant in  command  saw  me  and  stopped. 
We  simultaneously  uncovered,  waved  our 
hats  to  each  other,  and  bowed.  I  have 
always  thought  he  was  one  of  the  bravest 
men  I  ever  faced. 

I  rode  back  again,  passing  through  our 
infantry  line,  intending  to  go  to  the  left  and 
find  the  cavalry,  which  I  knew  would  be  on 
the  flank  somewhere.  Suddenly  I  became 
conscious  that  firing  had  ceased  along  the 
whole  line. 

I  had  not  ridden  more  than  a  hundred 
yards  when  I  heard  some  one  calling  my 
name.  Turning,  I  saw  one  of  the  headquar- 
ters aides,  who  came  galloping  up,  stating 
that  he  had  been  hunting  for  me  for  the 
last  fifteen  minutes,  and  that  General  Sheri- 
dan wished  me  to  report  to  him  at  once.  I 
followed  him  rapidly  to  the  right  on  the  wood 
path  in  the  direction  from  which  he  had  come. 

As  soon  as  I  could  get  abreast  of  him  I 
asked  if  he  knew  what  the  General  wanted 
me  for. 

203 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

Turning  in  his  saddle,  with  his  eyes  fairly 
ablaze,  he  said,  "  Why,  don't  you  know?  A 
white  flag." 

All  I  could  say  was  "Really?" 

He  answered  by  a  nod ;  and  then  we  leaned 
towards  each  other  and  shook  hands;  but 
nothing  else  was  said. 

A  few  moments  more  and  we  were  out  of 
the  woods  in  the  open  fields.  I  saw  the  long 
line  of  battle  of  the  Fifth  Army  Corps  halted, 
the  men  standing  at  rest,  the  standards  be- 
ing held  butt  on  earth,  and  the  flags  floating 
out  languidly  on  the  spring  breeze.  As  we 
passed  them  I  noticed  that  the  officers  had 
generally  grouped  themselves  in  front  of  the 
centre  of  their  regiments,  sword  in  hand,  and 
were  conversing  in  low  tones.  The  men  were 
leaning  wearily  on  their  rifles,  in  the  position 
of  parade  rest.  All  were  anxiously  looking 
to  the  front,  in  the  direction  towards  which 
the  enemy's  line  had  withdrawn,  for  the 
Confederates  had  fallen  back  into  a  little 
swale  or  valley  beyond  Appomattox  Court- 
house, and  were  not  then  visible  from  this 
part  of  our  line. 

204 


LEE'S  SURRENDER  AT   APPOMATTOX 

We  soon  came  up  to  General  Sheridan  and 
his  staff.  They  were  dismounted,  sitting  on 
the  grass  by  the  side  of  a  broad  country  road 
that  led  to  the  Court-house.  This  was  about 
one  or  two  hundred  yards  distant,  and,  as 
we  afterwards  found,  consisted  of  the  court- 
house, a  small  tavern,  and  eight  or  ten 
houses,  all  situated  on  this  same  road  or 
street. 

Conversation  was  carried  on  in  a  low  tone, 
and  I  was  told  of  the  blunder  of  one  of  the 
Confederate  regiments  in  firing  on  the  Gen- 
eral and  staff  after  the  flag  of  truce  had  been 
accepted.  I  also  heard  that  General  Lee 
was  then  up  at  the  little  village  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  General  Grant,  to  whom  he  had 
sent  a  note,  through  General  Sheridan,  re- 
questing a  meeting  to  arrange  terms  of  sur- 
render. Colonel  Newhall,  of  our  headquar- 
ters staff,  had  been  despatched  in  search  of 
General  Grant,  and  might  be  expected  up  at 
almost  any  moment. 

It  was,  perhaps,  something  more  than  an 
hour  and  a  half  later,  to  the  best  of  my 
recollection,  that  General  Grant,  accom- 
205 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

panied  by  Colonel  Newhall,  and  followed  by 
his  staff,  came  rapidly  riding  up  to  where  we 
were  standing  by  the  side  of  the  road,  for  we 
had  all  risen  at  his  approach.  When  within 
a  few  yards  of  us  he  drew  rein,  and  halted  in 
front  of  General  Sheridan,  acknowledged  our 
salute,  and  then,  leaning  slightly  forward  in 
his  saddle,  said,  in  his  usual  quiet  tone, 
"  Good-morning,  Sheridan ;  how  are  you  ?" 

"First-rate,  thank  you,  General,"  was  the 
reply.     "How  are  you?" 

General  Grant  nodded  in  return,  and  said, 
"Is  General  Lee  up  there?"  indicating  the 
court-house  by  a  glance. 

"Yes,"  was  the  response,  "he's  there." 
And  then  followed  something  about  the  Con- 
federate army,  but  I  did  not  clearly  catch 
the  import  of  the  sentence. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  General  Grant. 
"Let's  go  up." 

General  Sheridan,  together  with  a  few 
selected  officers  of  his  staff,  mounted,  and 
joined  General  Grant  and  staff.  Together 
they  rode  to  Mr.  McLean's  house,  a  plain 
two-story  brick  residence  in  the  village,  to 
206 


LEE'S  SURRENDER  AT  APPOMATTOX 

which  General  Lee  had  already  repaired,  and 
where  he  was  known  to  be  awaiting  General 
Grant's  arrival.  Dismounting  at  the  gate, 
the  whole  party  crossed  the  yard,  and  the 
senior  officers  present  went  up  on  to  the 
porch  which  protected  the  front  of  the  house. 
It  extended  nearly  across  the  entire  house 
and  was  railed  in,  except  where  five  or  six 
steps  led  up  the  centre  opposite  the  front 
door,  which  was  flanked  by  two  small  wooden 
benches,  placed  close  against  the  house  on 
either  side  of  the  entrance.  The  door  opened 
into  a  hall  that  ran  the  entire  length  of  the 
house,  and  on  either  side  of  it  was  a  single 
room  with  a  window  in  each  end  of  it,  and 
two  doors,  one  at  the  front  and  one  at  the 
rear  of  each  of  the  rooms,  opening  on  the  hall. 
The  room  to  the  left,  as  you  entered,  was  the 
parlor,  and  it  was  in  this  room  that  General 
Lee  was  awaiting  General  Grant's  arrival. 

As  General  Grant  stepped  on  to  the  porch 
he  was  met  by  Colonel  Babcock,  of  his  staff, 
who  had  in  the  morning  been  sent  forward 
with  a  message  to  General  Lee.  He  had 
found  him  resting  at  the  side  of  the  road, 
14  207 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

and  had  accompanied  him  to  Mr.  McLean's 
house. 

General  Grant  went  into  the  house  accom- 
panied by  General  Rawlins,  his  chief  of  staff; 
General  Seth  Williams,  his  adjutant-general; 
General  Rufus  Ingalls,  his  quartermaster- 
general;  and  his  two  aides,  General  Horace 
Porter  and  Lieutenant-Colonel  Babcock.  Af- 
ter a  little  time  General  Sheridan;  General 
M.  R.  Morgan,  General  Grant's  chief  com- 
missary; Lieutenant-Colonel  Ely  Parker,  his 
military  secretary;  Lieutenant-Colonel  T.  S. 
Bowers,  one  of  his  assistant  adjutants-general ; 
and  Captains  Robert  T.  Lincoln  and  Adam 
Badeau,  aides-de-camp,  went  into  the  house 
at  General  Grant's  express  invitation,  sent 
out,  I  believe,  through  Colonel  Babcock,  who 
came  to  the  hall-door  for  the  purpose,  and 
they  were,  I  was  afterwards  told,  formally 
presented  to  General  Lee.  After  a  lapse  of 
a  few  more  minutes  quite  a  number  of  these 
officers,  including  General  Sheridan,  came  out 
into  the  hall  and  on  to  the  porch,  leaving 
General  Grant  and  General  Lee,  Generals 
Rawlins,  Ingalls,  Seth  Williams,  and  Porter, 
208 


LEE'S  SURRENDER  AT  APPOMATTOX 

and  Lieutenant-Colonels  Babcock,  Ely  Par- 
ker, and  Bowers,  together  with  Colonel  Mar- 
shall, of  General  Lee's  staff,  in  the  room, 
while  the  terms  of  the  surrender  were  finally 
agreed  upon  and  formally  signed.  These 
were  the  only  officers,  therefore,  who  were 
actually  present  at  the  official  surrender  of 
the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia. 

After  quite  a  length  of  time  Colonel  Bab- 
cock came  to  the  door  again,  opened  it,  and 
glanced  out.  As  he  did  so  he  placed  his 
forage-cap  on  one  finger,  twirled  it  around, 
and  nodded  to  us  all,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"It's  all  settled,"  and  said  something  in  a 
low  tone  to  General  Sheridan.  Then  they, 
accompanied  by  General  E.  O.  C.  Ord,  the 
commanding-general  of  the  Army  of  the 
James,  who  had  just  ridden  up  to  the  house, 
entered  the  house  together,  the  hall -door 
being  partly  closed  again  after  them,  leaving 
quite  a  number  of  us  staff -officers  upon  the 
porch. 

While  the  conference  between  Generals 
Grant  and  Lee  was  still  in  progress,  Generals 
Merritt  and  Custer,  of  the  Cavalry  Corps,  and 
209 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

several  of  the  infantry  generals,  together  with 
the  rest  of  General  Sheridan's  staff -officers, 
came  into  the  yard,  and  some  of  them  came 
up  on  the  porch.  Colonel  Babcock  came  out 
once  more,  and  General  Merritt  went  back 
to  the  room  with  him  at  his  request;  but 
most,  if  not  all,  of  the  infantry  generals  left 
us  and  went  back  to  their  respective  com- 
mands while  the  conference  was  still  in  prog- 
ress and  before  it  ended 

Just  to  the  right  of  the  house,  as  we  faced 
it  on  entering,  stood  a  soldierly  looking 
orderly  in  a  tattered  gray  uniform,  holding 
three  horses — one  a  fairly  well-bred-looking 
gray,  in  good  heart,  though  thin  in  flesh, 
which,  from  the  accoutrements,  I  concluded, 
belonged  to  General  Lee:  the  others,  a 
thoroughbred  bay  and  a  fairly  good  brown, 
were  undoubtedly  those  of  the  staff-officer 
who  had  accompanied  General  Lee,  and  of 
the  orderly  himself.  He  was  evidently  a 
sensible  soldier,  too,  for  as  he  held  the  bridles 
he  baited  the  animals  on  the  young  grass, 
and  they  ate  as  though  they  needed  all  they 
had  a  chance  to  pick  up. 

210 


LEE'S  SURRENDER  AT  APPOMATTOX 

I  cannot  say  exactly  how  long  the  confer- 
ence between  Generals  Grant  and  Lee  lasted, 
but  after  quite  a  while,  certainly  more  than 
two  hours,  I  became  aware  from  the  move- 
ment of  chairs  within  that  it  was  about  to 
break  up.  I  had  been  sitting  on  the  top  step 
of  the  porch,  writing  in  my  field  note-book, 
but  I  closed  it  at  once,  and  stepping  back  on 
the  porch  leaned  against  the  railing  nearly 
opposite  and  to  the  left  of  the  door,  and  ex- 
pectantly waited.  As  I  did  so  the  inner  door 
slowly  opened,  and  General  Lee  stood  before 
me.  As  he  paused  for  a  few  seconds,  framed 
in  by  the  doorway,  ere  he  slowly  and  de- 
liberately stepped  out  upon  the  porch,  I  took 
my  first  and  last  look  at  the  great  Confeder- 
ate chieftain.  This  is  what  I  saw:  A  finely 
formed  man,  apparently  about  sixty  years 
of  age,  well  above  the  average  height,  with 
a  clear,  ruddy  complexion — just  then  suf- 
fused by  a  deep  crimson  flush,  that  rising 
from  his  neck  overspread  his  face  and  even 
slightly  tinged  his  broad  forehead,  which, 
bronzed  where  it  had  been  exposed  to  the 
weather,   was   clear   and  beautifully   white 

211 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

where  it  had  been  shielded  by  his  hat — deep 
brown  eyes,  a  firm  but  well -shaped  Roman 
nose,  abundant  gray  hair,  silky  and  fine  in 
texture,  with  a  full  gray  beard  and  mustache, 
neatly  trimmed  and  not  over-long,  but  which, 
nevertheless,  almost  completely  concealed  his 
mouth.  A  splendid  uniform  of  Confederate 
gray  cloth,  that  had  evidently  seen  but  little 
service,  was  closely  buttoned  about  him,  and 
fitted  him  to  perfection.  An  exquisitely 
mounted  sword,  attached  to  a  gold-embroi- 
dered Russia-leather  belt,  trailed  loosely  on 
the  floor  at  his  side,  and  in  his  right  hand  he 
carried  a  broad-brimmed,  soft,  gray  felt  hat, 
encircled  by  a  golden  cord,  while  in  his  left 
he  held  a  pair  of  buckskin  gauntlets.  Booted 
and  spurred,  still  vigorous  and  erect,  he  stood 
bareheaded,  looking  out  of  the  open  doorway, 
sad-faced  and  weary :  a  soldier  and  a  gentle- 
man, bearing  himself  in  defeat  with  an  all- 
unconscious  dignity  that  sat  well  upon  him. 
The  moment  the  open  door  revealed  the 
Confederate  commander,  each  officer  present 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  as  General  Lee  stepped 
out  on  to  the  porch,  every  hand  was  raised  in 

212 


LEE'S   SURRENDER  AT  APPOMATTOX 

military  salute.  Placing  his  hat  on  his  head, 
he  mechanically  but  courteously  returned  it, 
and  slowly  crossed  the  porch  to  the  head  of 
the  steps  leading  down  to  the  yard,  mean- 
while keeping  his  eyes  intently  fixed  in  the 
direction  of  the  little  valley  over  beyond  the 
Court-house,  in  which  his  army  lay.  Here 
he  paused,  and  slowly  drew  on  his  gauntlets, 
smiting  his  gloved  hands  into  each  other  sev- 
eral times  after  doing  so,  evidently  utterly 
oblivious  of  his  surroundings.  Then,  appar- 
ently recalling  his  thoughts,  he  glanced  de- 
liberately right  and  left,  and  not  seeing  his 
horse,  he  called,  in  a  hoarse,  half-choked 
voice,  "Orderly!  Orderly!" 

"Here,  General,  here,"  was  the  quick  re- 
sponse. The  alert  young  soldier  was  holding 
the  General's  horse  near  the  side  of  the  house. 
He  had  taken  out  the  bit,  slipped  the  bridle 
over  the  horse's  neck,  and  the  wiry  gray  was 
eagerly  grazing  on  the  fresh  young  grass 
about  him. 

Descending  the  steps,  the  General  passed 
to  the  left  of  the  house,  and  stood  in  front  of 
his  horse's  head  while  he  was  being  bridled. 
213 


STRANGE   STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

As  the  orderly  was  buckling  the  throat-latch, 
the  General  reached  up  and  drew  the  forelock 
out  from  under  the  brow-band,  parted  and 
smoothed  it,  and  then  gently  patted  the  gray 
charger's  forehead  in  an  absent-minded  way, 
as  one  who  loves  horses,  but  whose  thoughts 
are  far  away,  might  all  unwittingly  do. 
Then,  as  the  orderly  stepped  aside,  he  caught 
up  the  bridle-reins  in  his  left  hand,  and  seiz- 
ing the  pommel  of  the  saddle  with  the  same 
hand,  he  caught  up  the  slack  of  the  reins  in 
his  right  hand,  and  placing  it  on  the  cantle 
he  put  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  and  swung  him- 
self slowly  and  wearily,  but  nevertheless  firm- 
ly, into  the  saddle  (the  old  dragoon  mount), 
letting  his  right  hand  rest  for  an  instant  or 
two  on  the  pommel  as  he  settled  into  his  seat, 
and  as  he  did  so  there  broke  unguardedly 
from  his  lips  a  long,  low,  deep  sigh,  almost  a 
groan  in  its  intensity,  while  the  flush  on  his 
neck  and  face  seemed,  if  possible,  to  take  on 
a  little  deeper  hue. 

Shortly   after   General   Lee  passed  down 
the    steps    he    was    followed   by    an    erect, 
slightly  built,  soldierly  looking  officer,  in  a 
?i4 


LEE'S  SURRENDER  AT  APPOMATTOX 

neat  but  somewhat  worn  gray  uniform,  a 
man  with  an  anxious  and  thoughtful  face, 
wearing  spectacles,  who  glanced  neither  to 
the  right  nor  left,  keeping  his  eyes  straight 
before  him.  Notwithstanding  this,  I  doubt 
if  he  missed  anything  within  the  range  of  his 
vision.  This  officer,  I  was  afterwards  told, 
was  Colonel  Marshall,  one  of  the  Confederate 
adjutants -general,  the  member  of  General 
Lee's  staff  whom  he  had  selected  to  accom- 
pany him. 

As  soon  as  the  Colonel  had  mounted,  Gen- 
eral Lee  drew  up  his  reins,  and,  with  the 
Colonel  riding  on  his  left,  and  followed  by 
the  orderly,  moved  at  a  slow  walk  across  the 
yard  towards  the  gate. 

Just  as  they  started,  General  Grant  came 
out  of  the  house,  crossed  the  porch,  and 
passed  down  the  steps  into  the  yard.  At 
this  time  he  was  nearly  forty-two  years  of  age, 
of  middle  height,  not  over- weighted  with  flesh, 
but,  nevertheless,  stockily  and  sturdily  built, 
with  light  complexion,  mild,  gray -blue  eyes, 
finely  formed  Grecian  nose,  an  iron-willed 
mouth,  brown  hair,  full  brown  beard  with  a 
215 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

tendency  towards  red  rather  than  black,  and 
in  his  manner  and  all  his  movements  there 
was  a  strength  of  purpose,  a  personal  poise, 
and  a  cool,  quiet  air  of  dignity,  decision,  and 
soldierly  confidence  that  were  very  good  to 
see.  On  this  occasion  he  wore  a  plain  blue 
army  blouse,  with  shoulder-straps  set  with 
three  silver  stars  equi -distant,  designating 
his  rank  as  Lieutenant -General  commanding 
the  armies  of  the  United  States;  it  was  un- 
buttoned, showing  a  blue  military  vest,  over 
which  and  under  his  blouse  was  buckled  a 
belt,  but  he  was  without  a  sword.  His 
trousers  were  dark  blue  and  tucked  into  top- 
boots,  which  were  without  spurs,  but  heavily 
splashed  with  mud,  for  once  he  knew  that 
General  Lee  was  waiting  for  him  at  Appomat- 
tox Court-house,  he  had  ridden  rapidly  across 
country,  over  road  and  field  and  through 
woods,  to  meet  him.  He  wore  a  peculiar, 
stiff-brimmed,  sugar-loaf -crowned,  campaign 
hat  of  black  felt,  and  his  uniform  was  partly 
covered  by  a  light-weight,  dark  blue,  water- 
proof, semi-military  cloak,  with  a  full  cape, 
unbuttoned  and  thrown  back,  showing  the 
216 


DEPARTURE    OF    GENERAL    LEE    AFTER    THE    SURRENDER 


LEE'S  SURRENDER  AT  APPOMATTOX 

front  of  his  uniform,  for  while  the  day  had 
developed  into  warm,  bright,  and  beautifully 
sunny  weather,  the  early  morning  had  been 
damp,  slightly  foggy,  and  presaged  rain. 

As  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  steps  and 
started  across  the  yard  to  the  fence,  where, 
inside  the  gate,  the  orderlies  were  holding 
his  horse  and  those  of  several  of  his  staff- 
officers,  General  Lee,  on  his  way  to  the  gate, 
rode  across  his  path.  Stopping  suddenly, 
General  Grant  looked  up,  and  both  generals 
simultaneously  raised  their  hands  in  military 
salute.  After  General  Lee  had  passed,  Gen- 
eral Grant  crossed  the  yard  and  sprang  light- 
ly and  quickly  into  his  saddle.  He  was  rid- 
ing his  splendid  bay  horse  Cincinnati,  and  it 
would  have  been  difficult  to  find  a  firmer  seat, 
a  lighter  hand,  or  a  better  rider  in  either  army. 

As  he  was  about  to  go  out  of  the  gate  he 
halted,  turned  his  horse,  and  rode  at  a  walk 
towards  the  porch  of  the  house,  where,  among 
others,  stood  General  Sheridan  and  myself. 
Stopping  in  front  of  the  General,  he  said, 
"Sheridan,  where  will  you  make  your  head- 
quarters  to-night?" 

217 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

"Here,  or  near  here;  right  here  in  this 
yard,  probably,"  was  the  reply. 

"Very  well,  then;  I'll  know  where  to  find 
you  in  case  I  wish  to  communicate.  Good- 
day." 

"Good-day,  General,"  was  the  response, 
and  with  a  military  salute  General  Grant 
turned  and  rode  away. 

As  he  rode  forward  and  halted  at  the  porch 
to  make  this  inquiry,  I  had  my  wished-for 
opportunity,  but  my  eyes  sought  his  face  in 
vain  for  any  indication  of  what  was  passing 
in  his  mind.  Whatever  may  have  been  there, 
as  Colonel  Newhall  has  well  written,  "not  a 
muscle  of  his  face  told  tales  on  his  thoughts  " ; 
and  if  he  felt  any  elation,  neither  his  voice, 
features,  nor  his  eyes  betrayed  it.  Once  out 
of  the  gate,  General  Grant,  followed  by  his 
staff,  turned  to  the  left  and  moved  off  at  a 
rapid  trot. 

General  Lee  continued  on  his  way  towards 
his  army  at  a  walk,  to  be  received  by  his  de- 
voted troops  with  cheers  and  tears,  and  to 
sit  down  and  pen  a  farewell  order  that,  to 
this  day,  no  old  soldier  of  the  Army  of  North- 
218 


LEE'S  SURRENDER  AT  APPOMATTOX 

ern  Virginia  can  read  without   moistening 
eyes  and  swelling  throat. 

General  Grant,  on  his  way  to  his  field  head- 
quarters on  this  eventful  Sunday  evening, 
dismounted,  sat  quietly  down  by  the  road- 
side, and  wrote  a  short  and  simple  despatch, 
which  a  galloping  aide  bore  at  full  speed  to 
the  nearest  telegraph  station.  On  its  recep- 
tion in  the  nation's  capital  this  despatch  was 
flashed  over  the  wires  to  every  hamlet  in  the 
country,  causing  every  steeple  in  the  North 
to  rock  to  its  foundation,  and  sending  one 
tall,  gaunt,  sad-eyed,  weary-hearted  man  in 
Washington  to  his  knees,  thanking  God  that 
he  had  lived  to  see  the  beginning  of  the  end, 
and  that  he  had  at  last  been  vouchsafed  the 
assurance  that  he  had  led  his  people  aright. 


THE    END 


